Love of a Father
by HpFanficFan
Summary: Harry Potter dosn't have a father or does he? Severus Snape dosen't like children and certainly dosen't want one, but will he want Harry? Severitus, Slytherin!Harry. CP/spanking
1. Prologue Journal Entry July 31 1980

**PROLOGUE: JOURNAL ENTRY # 142: JULY 31, 1980**

**Summary: Harry Potter dosn't have a father...or does he? Lily's secrets lie in her diary, which Harry hides in a dusty corner of his 'room'. Severus Snape dosen't like children and certainly dosen't want one. 11-year-old Harry does not understand much, but he knows what 'dad' means. The potions master is cold towards the son of his childhood enemy, but can little Harry warm a cold man's heart?**

**A/N: This was the original chapter 1. I wrote the version 1 prologue, then wrote this. But when I finished I thought Hey! This would make a better prologue-mainly cus I think the first one sucked. And ppl would run away after they read it any never return….COME BACK!! Yeah, this one is so much better, so this ended up the prologue, and the other one is now chapter 1. **

**I have posted a one-shot snapshot of Love of a Father, called Care of a Father. That story contains spoilers for this fic, but it's a nice little short I just had to get out there. **

**WARNING: THIS FICTION CONTAINS CORPORAL PUNISHMENT IN LATER CHAPTERS. I'LL WARN U WHEN IT COMES.**

**ENJOY. **

* * *

PROLOGUE: JOURNAL ENTRY #142, JULY 31, 1980

* * *

_July 31, 1980_

_Dear Diary…_

_7lbs, 1oz. _

_A perfect healthy baby boy. _

_We named him Harry. Harry James Potter._

_My son. _

_Looking at him I cannot help but smile. He is the smallest thing in the world I swear. From his teeny tine feet to his teeny tiny hands to his teeny tiny nose. He is so adorable, so lovely, so beautiful; my beautiful._

_His eyes are just like mine; a brilliant emerald green. But his are far more lustrous then mine, like bright, sparkling stars in the night sky. Just born and he looks at me as if I were the only thing that mattered in the whole world. He is a strong one all right, even the healers were impressed by his magic, and they deliver babies all the time. His __magical core is among the highest in Britain and with proper education, he would be great._

_It is a bitter-sweet day._

_The birth of any new born should be celebrated and cherished, as my son is. But it is sad that he must be born to a world torn and shredded by the horrors of war. What I wouldn't give for this little boy to grow up in a free and glorious world. But that is not to be. He is so innocent, and so sweet. Just looking at him makes me feel free and alive. But he must grow up in this world poisoned and contaminated by the darkest wizard. He must grow up in this world not so innocent any more (perhaps it was never so innocent as we believed as children). How will this affect him? What will my boy become? Will he grow up like just like us? Innocent and naïve, completely unaware of what the world is capable of or any concept of what true evil means. Can we hope that he will grow up in the world I grew up int? Pure and untouched by the cruel realities of life until it comes for us, smacking us right in the face. _

_Only time shall tell. I hope for the best._

_Voldemort has begun his campaign and his supporters are growing more numerous as he grows stronger every day._

_Albus informs us that Voldemort is seeking us, and seeking my baby boy. James tells me there is nothing to fear, but I fear for the life of our Harry. We have asked Sirius to be Harry's godfather, and our secret keeper. He, of course, being Sirius, has agreed to both. _

_On a still darker note, there is something I am hiding from the world, from everyone. No one knows of this secret, no one. It is such a terrible thing to bare a secret such as mine._

_James, I am so sorry. For Harry, is not of your blood._

_Please let me explain. I love you James, as I always have. You have been there for me through the so many sad trials of my life, and so many happy ones as well. I have placed a strong glamour on Harry, to make him look like you, it will require several weeks for him to regain his 'natural' look if the spell is removed. You always said I was good at Charms; only too good I'm afraid. _

_I am so sorry for this betrayal James. If you ever find out, promise me you will still love Harry, as you do now. I saw the sparkle in your eyes when you first laid eyes on our son. That's right James, he is still _our_ son; he is still _your_ son. He always will be. I saw the joy in your heart and the love that poured from your soul when you held him in your arms. You love him; don't ever stop._

_Please do not abandon him for my mistake, if you shall ever learn the truth._

_The biological father of our Harry is Severus, Severus Tobias Snape. I know James, I know very well of your rivalry in school. I was often caught in the middle of it if you recall. But it has been years James, I beg you to forget your childish squabble with that man. Please forgive and forget. _

_I am afraid. _

_I know you are good person James, I know also that Sirius is just as kind hearted to the people he loves. But will you still love Harry if you knew? Will Sirius? Knowing how __much he loathes Severus even still. I know Remus and Peter would not mind, but will you hate him? Prove me right, be the person I believe you to be and the loving father I know you are. _

_But Sirius, I am not so sure about. His hatred for Severus knows no bounds, I truly do not understand their rivalry. They go at each other like they have vendettas to settle, only they have no reason to be enemies. I know it will be hard for him to take, but will it be too hard? To know that the godson he has loved for years carries the blood of his worst enemy._

_I cannot tell Severus because I fear for Harry's well-being. Not that Severus would ever hurt me or his son. But…Severus is a Death Eater, James. We all know he is a spy, but that's just it. He is a cold, bitter man who lives a dark and dangerous life, with the Dark Mark he can never escape Voldemort, not unless either dies. How will he ever be able to raise a child, take care of Harry, and bring him up properly. If I tell him, I am afraid he will take Harry away from me, far away. _

_And so I have decided to take this secret with me to the grave. Perhaps one day I shall reveal everything, otherwise may whoever finds this diary forgive me. I am only doing what is best for my baby._

_I don't know if I will ever tell you the truth Harry. I think one day I will, it is only your right. But if I don't get the chance, know this. Severus is a good man at heart, his life had been way too harsh, filled with brutal cruelties that no boy or man should have to suffer. He may put forth this hard, tough, unbreakable exterior, showing only an aggressive and impassive nature, but a light still shines in his heart. He only shuts out everyone who comes near him because he is afraid, afraid to open himself to kindness and love because he has been betrayed and hurt once too often, by one too many. Break through that turtle-hard shell and find a man who is just as capable of love as anyone else. _

_He will love you Harry, I know he will. All you have to do is dig deep enough and you'll find yourself in his heart. _

_Life in this world will be hard, and a life in hiding will be strenuous and harsh. But I will be there you Harry, every step of the way. I promise. Should anything ever happen to me or your James, know what you can always count on us to be there for you. All you have to do is say our name, and look deep inside yourself and we will be there. _

_I love you Harry, my child, forever and always, never doubt that._

_Good night my Harry, sleep well._

Harry finished reading and closed the leather-bound book. He sniffed. He'd always cried when reading this section of his mother's diary.

His father-Severus Tobias Snape. One day, when he was old enough. Harry will find him, and break that shell, no matter what it takes.

Tbc…

**The review button is there for a reason...**

**It's optional you say??**

**Where did you get such an idea, sheesh!**

**Do tell me what you think.**

**If you favoured this story. Or signed up for Story Alert. That means you liked it, care to tell me what you liked about it?**

**A/N: So, next chapter will be known as...okay i don't really know yet. But we will meet little Harry and the big, bad Dursleys. It will be set of Dudley's birthday. I've actually never read the 1****st**** book. I tried several times but gave up each time, so most my references will be from the movie. But I have borrowed the book from the library, in case i need to check something. **


	2. Chp 1: Life With the Dursleys

**A/N: Just so you know, not all chapter will be updated this fast. It's the beginning of the fic you know and you want to get it started, and you have more energy at the beginning of the fic-at least with me. Anyhow. I've decided to make the chapters shorter so I can update sooner. This chapter is about 2000 words. So, did you want longer chapters, with a bit of a wait, or shorter ones with less wait? Longer chapters'll be around 4000 words. Whatever the case, here is this one. I'm hope you like it. If you do, drop a review down at the REVIEW FICTION OFFICE and tell me why. Please and thank you.**

**Chapter 1 is an introduction of Harry and the Dursleys, so it's not very exciting. Lots of description and explaining. Next chapter will be mostly dialogue though. On with the show.**

CHAPTER 1: LIFE WITH THE DURSLEYS

* * *

"BOY? BOY! Wake up! Wake up this instant!" Came a high-pitched screech followed by two loud bangs.

BANG! BANG!

10-year-old Harry Potter groaned as he sat up and reached for his glasses. The ground seem to shake as his aunt, Petunia Dursley, pounded on his bedroom door. Well, it wasn't a _bedroom _per say. Meaning, it wasreally the cupboard under the stairs. But despite the cramped quarters this was where Harry had slept, played with his…or Dudley's broken toys and secretly read his mother's journal for as long as he could remember. So what else would you call it but a _bedroom_?

Dudley Dursley was his cousin, the only one he knew of. Harry always though the boy looked like a beached baby whale, he couldn't run from his bedroom to the bathroom without breaking a sweat. This _would_ have made Harry feel sorry for him, if he were not so mean to Harry all the time. Harry didn't like his cousin very much, and he had good reason not to. Dudley and his gang of bullies found it fun to push kids around and chase them around town; Harry was their favourite victim, mainly because no one ever got punished for hitting Harry. Dudley was the favourite son…well, okay…only son of his aunt and uncle. They would let him get away with murder...as long as it wasn't one of the neighbours, because that would drawn _unwanted attention_ from the folks next door.

He was their Duddykins, their baby boy, their pride and joy, and silver lining in the cruel world of suburban life. Dudley was spoiled rotten…literally. Harry was sure he wouldn't live past 30 if he continued to gain weight. But anyways, Harry resented his cousin for getting all the love and attention in the house. Dudley got _everything_; what Dudley wanted, Dudley got, and Dudley always got the best.

Harry on the other hand was the unwanted child, the outcast of the family. He knew since a toddler that Dudley was the boss, and that he himself should stay out of the way as much as possible. His aunt Petunia was his mother's older sister, which meant they were family. But Petunia always hated Harry's mother, Lily. That was something Harry just could not understand…how could anyone hate his or her own sibling so much? But that didn't matter anymore he supposed, because his mother was dead and has been for a long, long time.

Mrs. Dursley had always been jealous of her sister. Lily was the younger one, the cute one, the pretty one, the smart one, the popular one and the one that everyone loved more than Petunia. So starting as a young child, Petunia had started building a deep and hateful grudge towards her baby sister. Now that she was dead, Petunia transferred that hatred onto Lily's one and only son-Harry Potter.

Introducing man of the house, Mister Vernon Dursley. Age, 35! Weight, 286lbs! Once again, little Harry did not understand why his uncle hated him so much, after all what had he ever done to the man. For years and years he was nothing but Boy or Freak to Uncle Vernon, though his aunt would occasionally call him 'Harry', even though she aways screeched the word like a cat from hell. Harry had the feeling that Uncle Vernon hated him even more than Aunt Petunia did. He'd never forget the time when he had dared ask Vernon why he did not like him. Vernon had cuffed him upside the head and told him that he was a worthless little parasite just like his parents. The man towered over the 6-year-old child and bellowed that he was a burden and brought nothing but misfortune and woe into the Dursley household. He said that a little runt like Harry did not deserve to be liked, and that he should be grateful they had not carted him off to that orphanage up north. That night Harry laid in his cupboard with his head under the raggedy old blanket and cried himself to sleep.

Little Harry often found himself wondering about his parents, his godfather and other uncles. Despite his curiosity as a growing boy, he never rarely up his parents in front of his relatives, even though they were the only ones who could tell him anything about them. Harry learned early on that the subject would bring unpleasant consequences.

His aunt and uncle had always told him that his father was a drunken fool who got his _slut_ of a mother killed in a horrific car crash. Little Harry knew that was a bad word, he just didn't know how bad it was. However, despite his guardians repeated attempts to convince him that his parents were good for nothing, worthless, thieving beggars who were addicted to gambling. Harry never did believe them, not for a minute, not even a second.

Why?

Because Harry Potter had his mother's secret diary hidden in a far, dusty corner of the cupboard. And he knew the truth, his mother was a wonderful woman; modest, smart and apparently very pretty…because all the boys at her school were falling head over heals for her. And from her mother's diary he learned about his father, James, his godfather, and Uncle Remus and Uncle Peter. He hardly understood half the things his mother said, they were just so strange. Stuff about magic, and spells, and enchantments.

That's right...magic!

You see Harry Potter is a special boy in many ways. Though he looked like nothing but a beaten up scrawny street rat who picked pockets for a living. The first and foremost thing you should know is that Harry Potter is a wizard, and he knew it...well sort of.

Sometimes the young boy did not know what to believe. The Dursleys have condemned 'magic' and said that it was an illusion made by the devil and did not exist. In fact, they had forbidden the use of the words magic, wizards, witches, spells and any other that would not be seen as 'normal' by high-society. Once he had gotten himself locked in the cupboard for a week for saying something about 'magic' and Disney. But in his mother's book, she often referred to all kinds of magical stuff, such as charms, and spells and jinxes. Harry was fascinated by these things his mother spoke of. He learned that Sirius, his godfather could turn into a big, black bouncy dog. And that James could turn into a brilliant stag as wild as the wind, and more handsome than all the stallions in the world. Harry liked to believe that this world was real, anything to get him away from his dull and tiring life with the Dursleys. Even the name of the street was boring..._Private Drive. _Just thinking about the magical world his mother spoke of made him happy and he wished so much he could be there.

Harry Potter is not just any wizard, he was a very special wizard, very special indeed. But we shall talk about that later, right now, lets join our hero and protagonist in the kitchen where he is currently frying eggs…and trying not to burn them.

"Dadddyyyy. Make him hurry up, I'm hungry!" Dudley Dursley whined while pounding on the table with his chubby hands. Harry wanted to roll his eyes, but was afraid his Uncle Vernon would see him.

"Hurry up Boy, bring our breakfast. Aren't you finished yet?" His uncle demanded.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry muttered submissively as he finished with the eggs.

Sitting on the left of the round table was the beefy man who could pass for Santa Clause with a bit of costume and duck-tape. This was his Uncle Vernon. He wasn't the jolly type, no and way too short-tempered, but with those beady eyes and rosy cheeks, you never know. All he needs is a fake white beard and a red suit…and duck-tape.

Santa Clause never swore.

Harry wasn't sure if he believed in Santa Clause, or Saint Nicolas or Father Christmas or whatever they called him these days. After all the man had never brought him anything but black coals, no matter how good he tried to be. Dudley though, always got the best presents at Christmas and even more on his birthday…which happens to be today. His aunt and uncle had always told him he was too freaky and bad to be getting presents from Santa or anybody for that matter.

And that made Harry sad.

Harry put the half broken pieces of eggs on to a large plate and set them on the table right next to the crispy stripes of bacon. If he was lucky, maybe there'll be some leftovers. He hadn't had bacon in a while.

"Well? Go away!" His Uncle Vernon bellowed as soon as his fingers left the plate.

"Yes, Uncle," Harry obeyed timidly and moved away to start his chores for the day. He didn't have much to do today and would probably spend the bulk of it in his cupboard. Harry did all the chores around the house; he washed the dishes, the windows, the floors, the tables, and the car; dusted the lamps, the counters, shelves, even the chandelier. Harry mowed the lawn, tended the garden, did the laundry, fixed the beds, changed the linen, vacuumed the carpet, and cooked half he meals in the house. When he wasn't doing things, Harry was locked in his cupboard under the stairs, with nothing but spiders and the occasional cockroach to keep him company. If he were lucky, there'd appear a moth or fruit fly, but those were quite rare.

Today was Dudley's 11th birthday and they were going to the zoo. His aunt and uncle, believing he would burn down the entire neighbourhood if left to his own devices grudgingly took him along for any long trips they had. As Harry started to dust off the TV he could hear Dudley yelling and screaming, something about not getting enough presents. He rolled his eyes, if he'd dare raise his voice like that Aunt Petunia wouldn't feed him for a week. And if he was real unlucky, Uncle Vernon would come home drunk and beat him. Harry never got no decent present and he never complained, but boy could he imagine the temper tantrum Dudley would throw if _he _didn't get any presents.

Hp hp hp hp hp hp Hp hp hp hp hp hp

The day had not gone well. Something strange happened at the zoo today, something great and terrible. His relatives blamed him of course, to them everything bad was his fault. Uncle Vernon was furious, he was so purple Harry thought he might start venting steam like a steam-boat. He hoped his uncle wouldn't drink any time soon, Vernon didn't beat him often, only when he had been drinking and usually when he was real mad at Harry.

That night, after cleaning up piles and piles of Dudley's gift-wrapping and getting pushed around by his uncle for ruining Dudley's trip to the zoo, Harry laid on his thin 'mattress', closed his eyes and started to dream.

_Harry really didn't mind Dudley getting all those presents...well, maybe a little, but only a little. After all, he has been forced to accept Dudley's pampered life for nearly a decade. Harry tried not to let things he can't change get to him, there was just no point._

_"Harry."_

_"Mum?" _

_to be continued..._

_**next chapter: A Wonderful Dream. -subject to change-**_

**Don't forget to review and tell me how wonderful i am...or how horrible.**


	3. Chp 2: A Wonderful Dream

**Disclaimer: I, Hpfanficfan, do so swear that I have not received monetary compensation for this fiction. All characters belong to JKR and Warner Bros or whoever, and are not of my own creation. **

**A/N: Here's the next chapter. Thank so much to all ya who reviewed, be sure to do it again. Anonymous reviews enabled--didn't know i had it disabled beore--so drop me a note, i insist.**

**Word Count: 2193**

**You may all thank my beta Crookshanks.x for proofreading and correcting my hideous grammar mistakes. She had her work cut out for her. **

* * *

**CHAPTER 2: A WONDERFUL DREAM**

* * *

_Harry really didn't mind Dudley getting all those presents...well, maybe a little, but only a little. After all, he has been forced to accept Dudley's pampered life for nearly a decade. Harry tried not to let things he can't change get to him, there was just no point._

_"Harry." A soft voice and figure appeared from the shadows._

_"Mum?" _

_Harry wasn't in his cupboard anymore, but instead found himself in a large room filled with toys, storybooks and magical things. The walls were painted light blue and green, there was a shelf at one corner, a desk and chair at another and a dresser at the third. Between them lay a blueberry coloured twin-sized bed with a fancy headboard and foot board. There was a cool looking nightstand, a chest full of toys, a broom laying by the window, and several posters here and there. Harry's gaze lingered on the well used broom. He sometimes wondered what it was like to ride a broom, he doubted it was very comfortable, but he'd like to try nonetheless. _

_He sat on the bed, legs dangling and swinging freely._

_"Hello, my boy. How are you?" asked Lily as she walked forward and sat down on the bed with him._

_"Okay I guess, I had to wash and prune the flower bed today, and I mowed the lawn afterwards," Harry answered pulling his feet up and put them on the bed. He drew his arms over his bent legs and leaned against his mum._

_"Hmmm...I never enjoy gardening much," Lily told her son as she put an arm around him, drawing the small boy closer. _

_"Me neither, but at least it wasn't too hot."_

_"Or raining..."_

_"Yeah, I hate getting wet," Harry said as he fumbled with his mum's light blue dress. He thought his mum looked very pretty in it, though it was kind of hard to see in the dark…why was it so dark, anyway?_

_"I love a spring shower, and the sound it makes tapping against the window. But I'd hate to garden if it was raining."_

_"It wasn't raining, but Uncle Vernon made me wash his car too, so I ended up getting wet anyways." Harry whined and pulled his lips into a pout._

_"I hope you didn't catch a cold," Lily said with concern._

_"Nah, I'm fine Mum," Harry reassured as he snuggled closer. _

_Lily smiled sadly. She wished so much that her little boy did not have to grow up like this; neglected and forgotten. There was not much she could do but visit him in his dreams, and comfort him there. So she held her son close to her heart, letting him hear its rhythmic drumming._

_It was a quiet night, with the only sound coming from the gentle sweep of the wind and rattling leaves. Outside, the crescent moon lit the dark night below, casting long shadows on the long rolling hills. It shone brilliantly against the dark navy blue sky, drowning out all the stars surrounding it. Sure, it wasn't the brightest thing out in the universe (especially when you have the sun outshining it each and every morning),but there comes a time and a place ever so often when the moon would be the brightest and most beautiful thing in the sky. That was its time to shine. Soon Harry, soon you will shine too._

_"It was Dudley's birthday today," Harry said in a depressed tone, still snuggled close against his mother._

_"Was it, now?"_

_"Yeah...and he complained about his presents," Harry said, pushing lips together and looking down._

_"Oh? What was wrong with them?"_

_"Nothing! He was angry cause he didn't get as many as last year. Aunt and Uncle got him 36! Aunt Marge got him one too! But he started throwing a tantrum anyway, so Aunt Petunia promised to get him two new ones when they got to the store," Little Harry told his mother. _

_"I don't know what that boy will do with all those things. You know he will grow bored of them in less than a week," Lily said distastefully. It was true: Dudley had so many toys he'd forgot to play with most of them. He would play with his new toys for a week, and then they would lie in his 'toy room' for months before he'd even glance at them again._

_Harry bit his lip. He wanted to tell his mum he wanted presents too, for his upcoming birthday, but he didn't want to make a fuss._

_"Harry, don't be sad," Lily comforted as she rubbed the boy's shoulder with the arm that was around him. "You will get the biggest present this year, even better than Dudley's."_

_"Really?" Harry asked, not really convinced._

_"Really, really." _

_"Pinky swear?"_

_Lily smiled lovingly. "Pinky swear." Reaching out, Lily hooked her pinky finger with Harry's much smaller one and made the pinky promise. _

_Harry's face broke into a toothy grin at the mention of presents. He had never gotten a present before, unless you counted Vernon's stinky old socks or 'no name' toilet paper. If his mom said he was going to get a present, then he believed her. His aunt and uncle lied to him all the time, but his mother never would, especially now that she's made a pinky swear. _

_"What kind of present am I going to get?" Harry asked like any excited 11-year-old would at the prospect of presents. _

_"Oh no, Harry, you'll have to wait for that. It's a surprise."_

_"Aww. But mum...I want to know now."_

_"Nope, nope, nope. That'll ruin the surprise now wouldn't it?"_

_"Awww...okay." Harry relented. It wasn't everyday he got a present; a bit of a wait wouldn't hurt._

_"But you'll like it."_

_"How do you know?" Harry jibbed childishly._

_Lily chuckled. "I just do, you'll see. You'll love it."_

_"I can't wait till my birthday."_

_"It' will be the best birthday ever," Lily promised. _

_"I'll be 11 this year!" Harry said excitedly, though there was nothing really special about your 11th birthday._

_"Right you are Harry, and it will be a real special year indeed."_

_"It will?"_

_"Ummm hmmm," Lily confirmed, nodding her head._

_"What's so special about my 11th birthday?"_

_"That's part of the surprise, Harry."_

_"Oh...okay. Are you sure you can't tell me? Not even a hint?"_

_"It will be the most magical experience of your life, that's all I can tell you."_

_Harry looked at his mum. He knew from her diary that magic was supposed to exist, but his aunt and uncle got real mean if he dared imply something that had anything to do with magic._

_"Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia said that's a bad word, and that there is no such thing as magic."_

_"Don't you listen to them Harry," Lily said softly. "Of course there are such things as magic. How else would people turn into animals, or make broomsticks fly, or turn your hair pink and green?"_

_Harry laughed. He remembered the diary explaining an incident where his dad turned Uncle Sirius's animagus's fur coat pink and green. When Uncle Sirius turned back into a human he looked even sillier with a head full of pink and green hair...and a face as red as cheery. _

_"You could always dye it, like Aunt Petunia dyes her hair," Harry pointed out._

_"What kind of crazy Muggle would do that? Only wizards ever turn their hair pink and green!" Lily said in exasperation, making Harry chuckle again. He had guessed from reading his mum's diary that 'Muggle' probably meant people who didn't have any magic._

_"When can I do some magic mum?" Harry askek longingly. _

_"Very soon, Harry; very, very soon. I promise."_

_"How soon?" he whined._

_"Harry, magic will come to you when you most and least expect it."_

_"Oh...okay." What was that suppose to mean? Most and least expect it. Why did adults always have to like that? Why couldn't his mom just give him an exact time and date? Things would be so much easier that way._

_"Mum?"_

_"Yes, Harry?"_

_"Something weird happened today..." Harry said quietly, not knowing how his mum would react._

_"What do you mean?"_

_"Well...um. You know it's Dudley's birthday..." _

_"Yes, we were just talking about that."_

_"Yeah well, we went to the zoo," Harry continued, biting his nails._

_"Don't bite your nails, Harry," Lily started, Harry grumbled but dropped his hands. "So, did you like it?"_

_"Well, yeah...I guess. Sort of," Harry shrugged. He loved the zoo, and if it wasn't for the weird thing that happened, it would have been great._

_"Sort of? You didn't like the zoo? I thought you loved to get out of the house."_

_"Well, yeah, I do. Except...well, something weird happened."_

_"What happened, Harry?"_

_"There...there was this snake, a boa constrictor," Harry began slowly._

_"Uh huh," Lily nodded._

_"And it was sleeping so Dudley thought it was boring, and started banging on the glass real loud and hard, trying to wake it up."_

_"That wasn't very nice of him."_

_"No, it wasn't. Anyway, the snake didn't budge so Dudley went away to look at the turtles. And I felt sorry for the poor snake so I told it to ignore my cousin, and that I was sorry he was being mean."_

_"Oh?"_

_"Yeah, and...and. Well..."_

_"Keep going." Lily nudged._

_"Wellitkindoftalkedbacktome," Harry spluttered without pausing. _

_"What was that Harry? Didn't quite catch you there."_

_"Um...it talked back to me," Harry repeated_

_"It did? What did it say?" Harry looked at his mum wide eyed._

"_Aren't you going ask how a snake can talk?"_

"_Oh, all animals can talk Harry; all you have to do is listen hard enough."_

_Harry continued to stare at his mother skeptically. Animals can talk? That must be magic too. Harry concluded that wizards must be able to talk to animals, even though Aunt Marge's dog never said anything to him._

"_So, what did it say?"_

"_Oh!" Harry shook his head and snapped out of his thoughts. "Well, it didn't say anything at first, but it lifted its head and nodded at me, like it knew what I was saying. Then something else happened, which made things weirder and Uncle real mad..." Harry drifted off._

_"What happened, Harry? You can tell me."_

"_Dudley saw me talking to the snake, and came over and knocked me over."_

"_He didn't hurt you did he?"_

"_No, not really. But I got mad at him becasuse he was making a racket. I glared at him real hard, then all of a sudden the glass widow just vanished...like magic!"_

"_Really? Yes, that was definitely magic."_

"_Dudley was leaning against the window and so he fell in, right into the pond inside. The snake slid right pass him and onto the floor and thanked me..that's when it spoke to me..." Harry chatted._

"_That was awfully kind of him."_

"_Yeah, I guess. But Dudley ended up stuck inside the enclosure because the glass window came back. And Aunt Petunia was hysterical, yelling and screaming. Dudley looked like he was having a panic attack. It was kind of funny so I laughed a little, only a little."_

"_Well, I won't blame you for laughing, but I hope he's okay."_

"_Oh, he's fine, but Uncle Vernon caught me laughing and got real mad. It wasn't even my fault Mum, I didn't do anything!" Harry cried. "But Uncle Vernon thought it was all my fault and now I'm stuck in this stupid cupboard for a whole week!"_

"_I'm sorry, Harry." Lily said softly and hugged Harry tighter._

"_He grabbed my ear, and it still hurts." Harry whined._

"_Here, let me kiss it better." Lily leaned down a little and did just that._

"_Hey, that tickles. Stop." Harry giggled, wiggling away from the attack._

"_Better?"_

"_Yeah, much..." Harry yawned, drawing out the next word. "better."_

_He raised his head and turned to look at his mother. She looked even more beautiful in person than in the photo in her diary. _

_"Will you be there Mum? For my birthday?" Harry asked in a whining voice and setting his puppy dog eyes on her._

_"Of course Harry, of course I will be there. But remember, I won't be there for you just on your birthday, I will be there for you whenever you need me."_

_Harry smiled and hugged his mother, burying his head beneath her chin._

_"I love you mum." Harry said._

_"And I love you Harry, forever and always. Never doubt that."_

"_'Kay..." Harry yawned again, suddenly very tired._

_Lily pulled Harry from her and laid the child one the bed. She gently pulled the pirate themed duvet over her son and leaned down to give him a gentle kiss on the forehead. Harry's eyes drifted close as he sighed with content: Having a mom was the best thing in the world._

_"Good night my Harry, sleep well." She bid softly before drifting backwards and fading into the dull glow of moonlight shining through the open window. _

Come morning, Harry would remember little of the wonderful dream.

To be continued...

**End of story A/N: If anything doesn't make sense, well, it's a dream, it's not suppose to make sense. Next chapter I'll explain more about the dream and lily's diary. So if you got any questions drop me a line, maybe I'll incorporate it into the story. **

**Does Harry seem younger than a 10 year old going on 11? More like a 6 or 7 maybe? If it does seem that way I still believe it's fine, after all, someone who grew up with that kind of psychological abuse would suffer some side affects. A child just doesn't come out of a situation like that normal. Do you think he's okay? We'll meet Severus soon, I wonder what he's been doing this summer in that great big empty manor of his……**

**Review are nice if you'd be so kind. They are so rare and hard to find. My poem sucks, that much I know. But give me some credit and tell me how so.**

**Next chapter: -The postman's gone mad- title subject to change.**


	4. Chp 3: Love

**Start of story A/N: A longer chapter, around 4000 words. Changed the title from 'Postman's Gone Mad' to 'Love or Hate'**

**Thanks to all of ya who reviewed. ANONYMOUS REVIEWS ENABLED. Can't believe I had it off before. So if you'd like to drop a review for the previous chapters, or CARE FROM A FATHER, I'd really, really like that. Thanks .**

**Thank you Crookshanks.x for making my sentences make more sense.**

* * *

"_**Family quarrels are bitter things. They don't go by any rules. They're not like aches or wounds; they're more like splits in the skin that won't heal ..." --F. Scott Fitzgerald.**_

**CHAPTER 3: LOVE OR HATE?**

Harry woke early the next morning having slept better than usual. His aunt and uncle hadn't woken yet, which meant it was probably not eight yet. Though it did not really matter, he doubted they would let him out after the fiasco at the zoo yesterday. So Harry lay there staring at the ceiling and let stray thoughts run through his head.

He had a dream last night. There he was in a great, big, magnificent room filled with toys and books when his mother suddenly appeared at the doorway. Harry remembered talking to her and making a pinky swear because she had promised him a present for his birthday. But try as he might Harry could only recall bits and pieces of the conversation they had, and blurred images of the scenes. But that was okay, because he remembered the most meaningful thing of all. Harry remembered hearing the words 'I love you' and a wetness of his forehead that he figured was a kiss. If only his mum was alive to do this every night, for real.

The lonely boy had always wondered what it was like to have someone tuck him into bed, bid him good night and tell him that he was loved.

Harry sighed sadly...if only. He picked up the diary and held it to his chest. There was no good crying over things like that; it wouldn't do any good after all. If Vernon or Dudley caught him crying, they would laugh and he'd end up being punished. That was one of the rules in the house; Harry wasn't allowed to cry, just like he wasn't allowed to ask questions or eat without permission. Petunia might yell at him for being a baby and threaten with something like; 'Stop that this instant or I'll give you something to cry about', but Harry doubted she would actually do anything. Petunia was never as mean as Vernon or Dudley, though she did swing a frying pan at him a few times. Uncle Vernon would probably smack him upside the head and start insulting him and his parents. Dudley would push him against the wall and hit him to make sure _he _was the reason Harry was crying.

THUD, THUD, THUD. BANG! BOOM! SLAM!

_Hmmm. That must be Uncle Vernon getting to the bathroom. _ Harry thought absently, not really caring as his mind drifted back to the dream. Harry loved it when he dreamed of his mother, even though he never remember everything that happened. But he remembered her being there for him, and that was enough.

A thunderous roar came rushing down the stairs. Harry smirked; his uncle must be late for work…again.

He sat up on his bum and quickly returned the diary to the dusty corner and threw his blanket over it. He wouldn't want his relatives to find out, they would most likely burn the journal and Harry didn't know what he would do without it.

"Petunia! Petunia, where are my keys?" Harry heard his uncle bellow, searching frantically for his keys.

"On the stand next to the door, dear! Where you always put them!" Petunia hollered from the bedroom. A minute later Harry heard the door open and slam. A car engine started seconds later and his uncle was gone.

The day came and went with Harry sitting alone in his dark cupboard. Petunia let him out in the middle of the day to go to the bathroom. But the only reason she relented was because Harry had threatened to release his bowels right there on the floor; when you got to go, you got to go. In reality though, Harry just wanted to get out of the cramped quarters, if only for one minute. Also, he didn't want to come out later when Vernon and Dudley were home. Harry tried his best to avoid those two whenever he could.

After stretching out his limbs, Harry drank some water from the tap and quickly went to the bathroom and flushed the toilet. Outside Petunia stood with her hands on her waist and her foot tapping the floor impatiently. When Harry came out she grabbed the boy by one skinny arm and hauled him to the cupboard.

"You won't be getting any food today! Perhaps you wouldn't need to _go to the bathroom _so often, yes?_"_ the horse-like woman mimicked in a mocking tone.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," Harry replied sufficiently cowed, nearly tripping trying to keep up with the much taller woman.

"In!" She barked in a jagged voice, driving him none too gently towards the cupboard entrance.

Harry winced and immediately scrambled into the tiny space under the stairs. Well, somebody was in a bad mood today.

"Not another word from you Boy!" She yelled and slammed the door and locking it shut. "Wretched boy should have died along with his mother." She bit under her breath, stalking away from the cupboard without a backwards glance.

Petunia plopped down on the couch and started flipping through her magazines. That boy reminded her of her devilish sister every day. Those emerald green eyes were unmistakably Lily's and that unruly jet black hair were identical to James Potter's, Lily's diabolical excuse of a husband.. All through her life it was Lily this, Lily that, Lily the beautiful, Lily the miracle child, never Petunia. No, it had never been Petunia. Now her sister's offspring had to remind her of a childhood she'd rather forget. Every day, every time she looked at him she saw Lily, a sister she'd rather not recognize. Petunia sometimes wondered if she would have loved the child if only they had been your average family, living a normal, quiet suburban life. If Lily hadn't been the freak that she was, and did not marry that useless Potter boy, maybe, just maybe she would have loved her nephew. But she did not think that way often because things were not that way. They were never a normal family; Petunia was utterly ashamed of her abnormal sister and her family for not only accepting, but praising her freakishness. Then, just when things appear to be working out for the new family she'd started with Vernon. That boy had to be dumped on their front porch, with nothing but a short letter demanding her to take him in.

The boy was nothing but a parasite, infesting her perfect life with the perfect husband, and the perfect son.

Petunia hated Lily's child, she did, didn't she?

Back inside the cupboard Harry sniffed and rubbed at his dry eyes. It wasn't okay to cry. His cousin, Dudley, never cried, or at least Harry had never seen him cry. His uncle told him only freaky little babies cried, and that crying showed everyone just how weak and pathetic you were. But Harry had heard those bitter words and couldn't help but want to sob. Why didn't anyone love him? What was wrong with him that always made his aunt and uncle hate him so? Why was he always doing something wrong that made Petunia and Vernon angry? Harry just couldn't understand.

With a heavy heart, Harry took out his mother's journal once more and thought back to the day when he first discovered it.

It was some three years ago it happened. Harry was cleaning up the attic like he'd been told when he came upon a box of worthless clutter covered in cobwebs and dust. Dumping pile of the junk onto the floor, Harry began to sort through them when an old leather bound book caught his eye. At first the boy thought nothing of it, but it had a fancy binding so he flipped it open out of curiosity. A 4x3 inch photo fell out of its thin pages and drifted to the floor, it was a photo of himself, his mother and who Harry believed at the time to be his father. Harry had stared at the photo shocked beyond belief, he had only seen a picture of his mother once before, and had no idea what his father looked like.

A year before he found the diary Harry had begged and begged Petunia to let him see a picture of his mother. Harry knew his aunt kept an old family album locked in a trunk in attic. His aunt never brought it out, but for some reason never threw it away either. However, when he asked Petunia had shrieked at him to never mention that woman every again and stuffed him in the cupboard for three days. Once he was out though, Harry just went on pestering her until he made her so angry she smacked him and sent the small boy tumbling to the floor. It was three months later that Harry gathered up the courage to ask again, and he made sure Petunia was in a one of her better moods. Despite looking rather pleasant that morning Petunia freaked and Harry ended up with the garbage bin over his head. Clearly she was never in a good mood when it came to Harry and his mother. Now he had to clean up the nasty mess, and she didn't even give him any gloves. But at least she let him take a shower that night. Apparently he stunk enough as it was.

For the next week he kept on staring at her longingly whenever she was around, and one day she just up and snapped. Dragging him up the stairs, Petunia took the key, tore open the trunk, shoved a photo at him for 10 seconds, slammed the trunk shut, and kicked him out of the room...right into his cupboard.

Harry thought it had been worth it, at least now he knew what his mother looked like. The photo had been a shot of Lily standing in the snow as crystal flakes flew around her. He held the image in his mind till he could recall ever detail. Her hair was flowing backwards into the wind; her smile was so brilliant Harry could almost hear her laugher. Harry closed his eyes and imagined the scene coming to life before his eyes. The wind picked up as the downy flakes danced joyfully, flying all around. Harry never got to play in the snow, all he did was shovel the driveway and get pounded by snowballs by his cousin; at least they were softer than Dudley's fists. It didn't snow very often in Surrey, but Harry loved it when it did. He loved to watch as the snowflakes drifted down from the sky, he loved how they fell on the trees, the houses and streets, covering everything in a thin white blanket. More than anything else, Harry loved watching his fat, chubby cousin trip on the ice.

The day he found the photo in the diary Harry sat in the attic for a long time, gazing at the picture. Written on the back of the photo were the words: _Lily, James and baby Harry. August 6, 1981. Went to the zoo._ They were at some train station, Harry could a spot train and platform in the background. Harry stared at who he believed at the time to be his father, he really was the splitting image of him, just like his relatives had always told him. But James did not look like a bad person, or a ugly drunk, or a beggar and a thief. Harry thought he looked like a decent man, and much more handsome that Uncle Vernon.

The diary was signed in an elegant handwriting that read _Property of Lily Evans Potter_. Harry sat on the attic floor and opened the book. The poor little guy couldn't understand 8 out of 10 words back then, and even now Harry did not know a quarter of the words his mother used-he was only 11 after all. But for a boy barely at puberty Harry understood a tremendous amount, which is saying something considering his horrendous upbringing. Harry clearly inherited his parents' brains and intelligence. For one thing, he knew that his mom had a secret that she told nobody. He also knew that despite everyone believing that James was his dad, he was not. Harry understood that You-Know-Who, or Voldemort, was a very bad wizard. Harry found witchcraft and wizardry hard to comprehend, but he tried his best to grasp the ideas. He even tried to do magic himself, but never really got anywhere with that.

Back to the present, Harry's eyes started to ache from reading in the dim light. He rubbed at them to make the itching go away. Putting the diary back into its hiding place Harry started playing with his toy soldier, who was tragically missing a leg and half an arm. After half an hour, he got bored again. He reached for the crayon he'd nicked from Dudley and started marking the walls, which were already covered in drawings. After that Harry laid back and let his mind wander. His imagination would carry him to wonderful places. On the few occasions he overheard Aunt Petunia reading to Dudley, he found himself striving to remember each and every word. Later, he would imagine he was a character in one of those stories, like a pirate or a spaceman. Today Harry was Peter Pan. He closed his eyes and flew through the clouds to Neverland, fought Hook, and rescued Wendy. But Harry Potter, unlike Peter Pan, wanted to grow up. He wanted to grow big enough so that Dudley couldn't pick on him, he wanted to grow tall enough and run so fast Dudley's gang wouldn't catch him in a million years. More importantly, Harry wanted to grow up so he could leave this horrible place, and go find his dad. Harry wondered how long it would take before he was old enough to get kicked out of the house by Uncle Vernon.

BANG!

"Petunia! Dudley! I'm home!" A booming voice hollered from the door, snapping Harry out of his daydream.

"Oh darling, dinner's almost ready. How was work?" Petunia said in a cliché suburban housewife manner.

"Hey Dad, Dad, guess what. There was this new kid at school…."

Harry rolled his eyes and drowned out Dudley's ranting, he didn't want to hear how Dudley and his gang of three beat up and humiliated another newbie, and as long as it wasn't him he was happy. The rest of the night went on with the entire family ignoring him, which was just as well. When it came to attention from the Dursleys, it was the less the better. Harry heard the family around the dinner table, chatting and laughing. He wondered if he'd ever be able to have a family like that, and do things that families do, such as having dinner. Harry listened in to their conversation; there was just nothing else to do. Uncle Vernon talked about his day at the office, Dudley talked about his day of 'learning' (or more appropriately 'teaching' the new kid a lesson), and Aunt Petunia...Aunt Petunia just talked about this fancy dress featured in one of her magazines.

Why hadn't Aunt Petunia told Vernon about him? She had seemed to be awfully mad earlier. But whatever the reason, Harry was simply glad he did not have to deal with an angry Vernon.

The rest of the week went by slowly with Harry bored out of his skull. He took 2 hours to eat his toast just so he'd have something to do. Harry just twisted and turned in on his blanket, trying to let sleep pass the time. Finally, after 5 long days Petunia pulled Harry from the cupboard and screamed at him to start laundry, along with the millions other things _he_ let fall behind while he was _playing_ in his cupboard.

Hp hp hp Hp hp hp Hp hp hp Hp hp hp

Two days later the post arrived 9:45 as usual and Harry casually flipped through them. _Bill, junk, junk, letter, postcard…_Hey!

Harry looked at the letter in his hands, it was addressed to him! He had never gotten any mail before. The little boy walked absently towards the kitchen, his eyes never leaving his letter as he handed the rest to his uncle.

"Hey Dad! Look over here! Look at what the freak's got!" Before Harry could even open the letter, Dudley came around him and snatched it out of his hands.

"Hey! Give that back, it's mine!" Harry cried.

"Watch that tone of yours boy!" Vernon shouted, making Harry draw back.

"What do you have there Dudley?"

"A letter, Dad, addressed to the freak over here," Dudley pointed a chubby finger at Harry, who didn't dare go near his uncle no matter how much he wanted the letter.

"Who in the right mind would send a letter to you?" His uncle sneered, taking one look at he mail he tore it into pieces and chucked it into the garbage. "Well what are you waiting for? Get Dudley his milk and bring me my coffee!"

"Yes Uncle," Harry sighed, he should have hid the letter. How could he be so careless as to let his uncle see it, and now the letter was gone and it was he could only blame himself. "And don't let me see you getting that letter from the bin, or I'll flay you alive, you hear boy!" Vernon threatened.

"Yes, Uncle," Harry muttered obediently. Harry doubted his uncle would 'flay him alive''. Nevertheless, he'd better not let his uncle see him retrieve that letter. That would get Vernon angry, and angry Vernon liked to drink, and a drunk Vernon could give him one hell of a beating.

Harry didn't get the chance to retrieve the letter unseen and sulked the entire night. That was the very first letter addressed to him, it looked very important with that coat of arms wax seal. Harry sighed; he doubted he will get another letter ever again.

But Harry was wrong, he did get another letter...and another, and another. In fact, so many letters came for one 11-year-old Harry Potter at Number 4 Private Drive, Vernon Dursley bolted the mail slot shut. When that didn't work the beefy man took it upon himself to raid the post office and demand to see their manager, only to get himself held in the police station overnight. A few days later he then stormed the media buildings and claimed that their postman was crazy, this time he got chucked out of their offices by security.Well at least he didn't try to send Harry to an asylum.

Throughout the entire week, letters came by the hundreds, all addressed to the boy named Harry James Potter, who lived in the cupboard under the stairs at Number 4 Private Drive, Little Whinging,

Surrey. Harry reckoned all this had something to do with magic; it was almost as if whoever it was sending these strange letters knew the receiver wasn't even opening the letters, let along reading them. The letters just came and came, one after the other, never stopping no matter what Vernon tried. There was even post on Sunday and there was never post on Sundays. Harry's uncle came home drunk two nights that week, Harry thought his aunt nearly screamed her head off, screeching at her husband and warning him that if he ever come home drunk like that again she'd turn him out of the house.

Hp hp hp hp hp hp hp hp hp hp hp hp hp

"This is your fault you little freak! You are doing this, aren't you? You are!" Vernon trapped Harry in a corner and screamed at him.

"I'm sorry. I don't mean for the letters to come," Harry cried, terrified of his uncle as great splashes of tears fell from his face.

"You listen here boy! You stop making them letters come, and you get those owls away from my house!" Vernon's thunderous voice travelled through the entire house and echoed off the walls. Harry was trembling like a frightened dog, pushing himself back into the wall, all he wanted was to just sink in and disappear.

"I...I'm sorry. I'm sorry. The letters, I don't know an...anything about them." Harry sobbed, "Honest!"

"No? Fine! Have it your way boy!" Vernon began unbuckling his belt; he himself was shaking with rage towards the little boy. "This is your freakish doing, I just know it! Don't you lie to me!"

"I'm not, p...please. Uncle, I...I swear!" Harry cried and coughed, eyes wide with fear as he watched his uncle getting angrier by the second.

The purple faced monster in front of Harry reached for his arm and dragged him forward. "Last chance boy! You stop those letters this minute or you'll be getting the beating of your life!" Harry's legs nearly buckled from fright, he cringed away, trying to deal with the pain coming from Vernon's brutal grip on his forearm.

"No, I...I don't know. Please d...don't." Harry shook his head furiously from side to side, denying both his uncle's accusations and the whipping that was sure to come.

Harry continued to cry and plea to Vernon, who's other hand viced around his leather belt.

"Vernon, stop that noise or the neighbours will hear," Petunia called from the kitchen, "Now get in here and sober up, you have work tomorrow!"

"But, Petunia..." Vernon started.

"Black coffee," Petunia interrupted as her head appeared from behind the kitchen wall.

"Petunia, this boy needs to be taught a lesson! You see what he is doing? He is sending them crazy letters!" Vernon argued with his wife.

"Well, you can teach the boy the lesson tomorrow," she said impatiently, walking into the hall. "I won't have you drunk in my house; you're setting a bad example for Dudley!" With that, she grabbed Vernon's arm, hauled him away from Harry and into the kitchen. "Drink!" Harry heard her say, "And a cold shower right after this, it'll help you sober up, and I don't want you smelling of alcohol and the bar in bed! And I do not care if you can't sleep!"

"But the boy..."

"You let me worry about the boy," Petunia interrupted sharply, "You just get yourself sober, or else you'll be sleeping in the shed tonight!"

Vernon grunted something unintelligible and picked up his coffee.

As soon as Vernon left, Harry had dropped to the floor and curled up into the tightest ball. All he could feel now was overwhelming relief; he was so sure Vernon would live up to his threat and give him 'beating of his life'.

Harry couldn't think right, he had just been scared out of his wits. He was too upset to recognize what his aunt did, but one day he would remember.

"Up!" Petunia barked as she re-entered the hall, and pulled Harry to his feet.

"In!" She shouted, and gave him a shove. Harry was back in the cupboard again.

Petunia did not sleep well that night, she was confused. Did she hate her nephew? She certainly did not _love_ him, that was for sure.

Hp hp hp hp hp hp hp hp hp hp hp hp hp

Finally, it was the day before Harry's birthday. That day, owls swarmed the house like a flock of flamingos and letters started pouring from the fireplace by the thousands. As letter after letter flooded the house, his uncle finally snapped and carted the entire family to a miniature island in the middle of nowhere, and during the storm of the century, no less! Vernon doubted the London post office could find them there, and even if they could, they wouldn't bother sending any letters all the way out to sea.

Inside the cabin the entire family was fast asleep, all except for one young boy, who was wide awake with excitement. He remembered having a dream where his mother had promised him a present on his birthday and he couldn't wait for the clock to strike 12. As the weather raged outside the run-down old cabin, that little boy started to count off the seconds to his birthday.

There was only 6 more seconds to go.

5…

4…

3…

2…

1...

TO BE CONTINUED...

**End of story a/n: Sorry, the end was kinda quick there, but I hope you liked the chapter. **

**Petunia came into the picture late in the game, during one of my many read throughs. At first the bathroom scene was just a few sentences long, just a description. But then I wrote the entire thing out cause there was way too little action in the chapter.**

**I've said that Vernon only beat Harry when he was angry and drunk. At first Vernon did not get that angry over the letters. But I thought the hundreds of letters would have a bigger impact on him, and make him irritated enough to drink. I had Petunia get angry at her husband for coming home drunk. At first I though Vernon didn't even talk to Harry because Petunia had dragged him right upstairs when he came home. But, that wasn't enough somehow. I decided to write the scene of Vernon getting mad at Harry, and nearly beating him. However, I did not want to write Harry getting thrashed by the belt, so made Petunia stop him. That's when Petunia's character came to my head. The title needed changing and Love or Hate just popped into my head.. Petunia's character and role, as small as it is, wasn't planned at all, she hitched along for the ride.**

**Yes, I am done talking. Sorry, my problem is either ranting or having nothing at all to say. Looks like I'm in the ranting mood. Stay with me here...**

**U must follow the laws of magic. ACCIO Reviews! (****waves wand frantically)**

**-Next Chapter: A Reluctant Potions Master-**


	5. chp 4: The Reluctant Potions Master

**A/N: This chapter was originally called "The Gentle Giant Who Broke Down the Door" because I had Hagrid pick Harry up. But, I really wanted to get away from canon and having Hagrid enter here was way too canon. I also needed to leave scenes with Harry in them and freshen up with a bit of Severus action. Besides, this story is about him too, so I mustn't neglect my 2nd main character. So may I introduce, the evil potions master of Hogwarts: Mister Severus Tobias Snape. **

**Thanks for all the wonderful reviews.**

**This chapter has been beta'ed by the lovely miss Nitapotter. Clap clap clap. **

**OoOooOooOooOXxXOooOooOooOoo**

_**"Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! --Albus Dumbledore**_

**CHAPTER 4: **

**A RELUCTANT POTIONS MASTER**

July 30, 1991. Prince Manor

He had been in the middle of his second paper when his house elf suddenly appeared in the office with a sound 'pop'.

"What! What do you want, Lessy? This had better be good! Didn't I tell you I don't want to be disturbed?"

Severus Snape slammed his quill down on the table and growled. He had been in the middle of writing a paper_** f**_or Potions Monthly: _Professional Journalism for the Above Average Potions Master____(PMPJ)__**. **_The prestigious journal had begun a debate regarding a controversial topic; the healing properties of the Mallowsweet plant. The Hogwarts Potions professor had sent his application to join the debate and was accepted, along with 5 other applicants. There would be two parties, with three persons on each side. Each member was to develop their own case and send one article every week for the next two months. Once their first articles had been published, they will have six days to respond, defend, gather evidence to further their argument, and send in their second paper before the deadline. Severus Snape, two of the other debaters, along with most of the wizards in the field, firmly believed that the flower was as useless as a garden weed. The idea that it had healing properties was even more absurd that even the Centaurs' use of it (which was to burn it in an effort to improve their stargazing). Their opponents, however, believed that Mallowsweet contained healing minerals that if brewed correctly, might could cure Moon Fever. This debate had been going on for decades, as hundreds of experiments proved unsuccessful in discovering any use for the flower. But a determined few still believed they could find a use for Mallosweet; after all, many potions, such as the Drought of Living Death, Wolfsbane and Veritaserum, succeeded only after decades of experimentation and thousands of tests.

"So sorry to disturb you, Master Snape, Sir! But you is being late for the appointment with the Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, Sir, " the little elf chirped, holding up his work and jabbed a skinny finger at the calendar on Severus's desk, which clearly marked the time and day of his appointment with Dumbledore.

"Damn that Albus!" Severus growled. "Doesn't he know I'm busy?"

He had been on a roll, using his elegant sarcasm and vicious criticism to bring down his opponents, and now it was completely ruined.

Reluctantly, the potions master gathered up his notes and put them away, knowing he would have to finish them later. Severus grabbed the robes from his elf and slipped them over his head. Walking over to the fireplace, he grabbed a handful of powder and flooed himself into Dumbledore's office.

_What could the old man possibly want with him now? _He wondered. The headmaster hadn't even told him what he wanted him for, which was never a good thing. But who was he to deny the headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and the most powerful wizard known to human kind this side of the solar system.

One-hundred-and-twenty miles away, a long bearded age-old wizard sat in his office, staring at the high ceiling and the many objects hanging from it. He was pondering the space-time-continuum and sucking on a sweet lemon drop when all of a sudden, his floo flared into a wave of green flames.

"Ah, Severus, my boy, what brings you to my office this lovely day?" Albus Dumbledore asked as he sat up in his chair. Nearby, Fawkes, the phoenix, chirped a happy greeting and went back to his afternoon snooze.

Severus growled low in this throat. _Trust the prehistoric old man to make an appointment and forget about it. Time must be catching up to him,_ Severus reasoned.

"We have an appointment, Headmaster," Severus reminded the ancient wizard. "You said you needed to see me?"

"Oh yes, my, my. I must have forgotten. Terribly sorry…lemon drop?" Dumbledore offered joyfully and pushed the bowl of sweets towards the potions master.

Severus rubbed his temple, not even a minute with the man and he'd already developed a headache. Why did the headmaster always have to be so…cheery? Severus wanted to bang his head against the wall right now.

"That's quite all right, Headmaster. What did you need from me?" He returned as politely as he could.

"Please take a seat," Dumbledore offered, gesturing to the chair on the other side of desk.

"Thank you, Headmaster," Severus replied politely and sat down on the chair, facing the headmaster.

"Severus, how many times have I told you to call me Albus? There are no students here, so there's no need for all such protocol."

Severus sighed, wishing the old wizard would stop being so sentimental, but he supposed there was no harm in calling his boss by his first name.

"Very well, _Albus_. I have much work to do, so if we could please get down to business."

"Oh, Severus, you work too much; relax a little. It is the summer and the weather is lovely. Perhaps you should get a hobby?" Dumbledore suggested, twinkling his eyes through his half-moon glasses.

_Ha! A hobby indeed, Severus Snape did not need a hobby, Severus Snape does not do hobbies! _The potions master mused. _He is a hypocrite if I've ever met one. _ Albus Dumbledore worked twice, if not three time as hard as Severus ever did. Being Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot's was no easy task. On top of that, the old wizard had to run a school, and not just any school; Hogwarts ranked in the top three of all European Wizarding academies. Working as headmaster required stamina and patience beyond Severus's capability: he would never be able to deal with the children; he'd end up throwing them out the window with frustration.

"Head…Albus...you know very well I love my work, writing papers for the PMPJ and working on potion projects _are_ my _hobbies_," Severus insisted, "so please let the matter drop."

"Oh, very well, but I truly believe you should find a new hobby, one that gets you out of the manor once ever so often, yes?" Dumbledore persisted, still twinkling at Severus.

"Of course, of course. Can we please….?"

"Speaking of drop, are you sure you wouldn't like a lemon drop?"

Severus breathed deeply and gritted his teeth. The headmaster was impossibly difficult at times.

"No, thank you, Albus. You know I don't like sweets," he grounded out, trying to stay calm and patient under the undeniably irritating circumstances.

"Oh yes, but I recall you had a taste for pepper imps and liquorice wands as a child, am I correct?" The old wizard smiled at his potions professor and winked.

Severus shook his head; nobody knew him like the old headmaster. Severus was a very private man, the fact that Dumbledore knew so much about him used to unnerve him quite a bit, and it still did, though on a lesser scale. It was amazing how the old man could figure out what was going on in people's heads just by one glance in their eyes, especially Severus's. Dumbledore, on the other hand, was like the dark side of the moon. No one knew what filled his head, some say, not even himself. The headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was one strange wizard; he had a cunning, whimsical sense of humour that peeved the magic out of Severus. He spoke in riddles and proverbs to whomever would listen, and possessed a wisdom none other had. Truly a kind hearted soul, Dumbledore had an open mind and was entirely too trusting for his own good. He was Severus's mentor, friend, and father in every way but blood.

"Yes, but that was then, this is now. What did you need me for?" Severus asked once again as he tried unsuccessfully to guide Dumbledore back on track, not that they were ever on track.

"Oh, but I find that you never lose your taste for the sweets you develop as a child. Take myself for example, I've been sucking on lemon drops for over 100 years!" The old headmaster announced proudly as he stroked Fawkes, who still had his head tucked beneath his red and gold feathers, soundly asleep.

_How fascinating, _Severus thought sarcastically. _That has got to be a world record._

"Yes, well, back to the matter at hand, Headmaster?" Severus urged, wanting to get this over with so he could go back to his big, quiet and empty manor where he could finish insulting his debate opponents.

"Oh yes, yes, shall we get right to the matter than?"

_Right to the matter? Right to the matter! Well, it's about time! We just spend the last several minutes discussing nothing, you crazy old fool!_ Severus shouted in his head, but didn't say anything. If there was one person he could spare patience for, it was Albus Dumbledore.

"This is the year a certain young wizard turning 11 and will be arriving at Hogwarts," Dumbledore informed knowingly.

_A certain young wizard? _Thought Severus. There were many young wizards that would be arriving at Hogwarts this year, just like the year before, and the year prior. The potions professor couldn't think of anyone special coming to Hogwarts this year, and what did this 'certain young wizard' have anything to do with him anyway?

Severus looked at Dumbledore expectantly, waiting for the older man to elaborate.

"His name is Harry James…"

"Potter," Severus finished viciously. So it's the Potter boy that has the headmaster's attention, how typical. Harry J. Potter, the son of his childhood tormentor, was coming to Hogwarts at last, coming to wreck his party (figuratively speaking of course, Severus Snape did not do _parties). _ _Life just doesn't get any better than this, does it? _ He thought sarcastically. Severus mildly wondered what the next generation of Potters was like, no doubt an exact duplicate of his father, after all, the apple never falls far from the tree.

"Yes, Harry Potter," Dumbledore confirmed peacefully.

"And why are you telling me this, Albus?" Severus was suspicious; if this had anything to do with Potter, he would have no hand in it whatsoever.

"Only because I need you to fetch him for me," Dumbledore chatted, sitting back in his chair.

Severus did a double take, then shouted in out rage.

"WHAT?"

Him? Fetch the little menace? There was no way he was going near that boy.

"I need you to fetch him for me from his home in Surrey," the headmaster replied, as calm as a Muggle painting.

"You need me? To get him? From Surrey?" Severus ground out.

"Yes, Severus, I believe that is what I said," Dumbledore said cheerfully.

"No. Can't. Busy. Working on a very important paper," Severus said quickly, shaking his head in objection. He had no desire to waste valuable time by traveling to Surrey and fetching the Potter boy; he had better things to do.

"I am sure it can wait," Dumbledore pushed, looking at Severus with those age-old eyes that were impossible to deny.

Severus sighed. The truth was he did have plenty of time; what did you think, that he worked on the debate 24/7? But the potions master wanted nothing to do with Harry Potter, the son of his childhood nemesis. It was enough that he had to see the brat during the opening feast, he did not need an early visit to the boy's home. Severus Snape did not want to see that Potter face sooner than he had to. Actually, it would be better if the boy never came to Hogwarts.

"Can't you get someone else to do it?" Severus questioned desperately.

"I'm sorry, I would get Hagrid but he is working on a project for me in the Forbidden Forest and must not be disturbed."

The reluctant potions master grumbled under his breath. He had a feeling the Hogwarts gamekeeper, Rubeus Hagrid, was very available to do this job, and would gladly take it at that. But for some reason or another, Dumbledore wanted _him _to fetch the brat; the meddling old coot was up to his old tricks again.

Minutes passed as neither said a word; Severus continued to rub at his temple as Albus sat calmly in his chair, regarding Severus with those piercing blue eyes and waited for the answer he knew would come. The younger man hated when the older wizard studied him like that; Dumbledore had a talent of making people feel completely bare. Severus never felt so exposed with anyone, not even the Dark Lord.

Another minute ticked by slowly. What could he do, nobody could deny Albus Dumbledore and his mythological levels of persuasion. In the end, Severus figured that it would not take long, and he'd be back in his cozy office in no time. He would get the boy, deliver him to Dumbledore and let that be that.

"Very well, Albus, I will fetch the boy for you," Severus answered with resignation, accepting his fate.

"Thank you, Severus," Dumbledore smiled at him with that annoying twinkle in his eyes.

"When do you need me to get him?" Severus asked.

"Tomorrow. At precisely 12 o'clock midnight."

The potions professor looked at the headmaster bewildered. 12 o'clock midnight? What kind of time is that?

"May I ask why that specific time?"

"It will be his 11th birthday and I think it will be a wonderful present for him to finally visit our world."

"Will he not be asleep? Like the rest of the world on this side of the hemisphere?" _Including myself!_ Severus snarled silently.

"I don't see how that will be a problem."

Albus Dumbledore was one strange wizard, thought Severus. It would have been perfectly reasonable to pick the boy up in the morning. Didn't he know children celebrated their birthdays come morning and not at midnight! There was just no point, the family would be asleep, he'd have to wake everyone up, and they'd all end up being grumpy. No doubt the little prince would be complaining and whining all the way back. If he knew anything as Head of House, it was that children did not like being waken up in the middle of the night. What did Albus have planned anyway? A birthday party at midnight?

"Fine, fine, fine. 12 O'clock, tomorrow…tonight. Where should I bring…"

"The boy will need a place to stay," Dumbledore suggested casually.

Severus narrowed his eyes then bulged them as it dawned on him what the headmaster had requested.

"NO, absolutely not! That boy will not set foot in Prince Manor. It is bad enough I have to teach the little brat, I will not baby-sit him."

"Severus…"

"No, I'm sorry. But you can't talk me into it. I will not have any child gallivanting about the manor creating havoc and mayhem wherever he treads, _especially _not a Potter!"

"Severus…"

"I've agreed to pick up the boy for you, not baby-sit him for a month!"

"Now I ask if you will."

_Albus you are hardly asking, you are telling me to do this. But you will not persuade me this time, old man!_

"The answer is no, Albus. That boy cannot stay at my manor, the brat will tear the place apart. Besides, you know my infamous rivalry with the Potters and what I had to put up with as a child. No one of their blood will ever set foot on my property."

"Harry may be of Potter blood, but he has done you no wrong," Dumbledore reasoned and looked at Severus seriously.

"That does not matter, he is a Potter and I hate Potters!" The potions master spat venomously.

"Surely you don't mean that, my boy. Hate is a strong word," Dumbledore chided, his face stern with disapproval.

"I would not say it if I did not mean it. You're right though, hate is a strong word, just not strong enough. I _loathe _and _despise_ the Potters to the very depths of my heart."

"You are being melodramatic, my child," Dumbledore continued. "You should never loathe or despise any living creature, especially not a child that has done you no wrong."

"And yet, that is how I feel," Severus replied.

"You will pick up Harry from Surrey and bring him to Prince manor. But you will harbor no ill will against the boy, I will not allow it."

"Albus, please. It is the summer after all. You said yourself I should get out more, and perhaps I will. But I cannot do that if I have a 11-year-old pre-teen whose just discovering his hormones tailing me everywhere."

"I'm sure Harry will be a fine young man. It's not like you don't know how to deal with troublesome children, Severus, you are, after all the infamously evil potions master."

Severus was at a loss.

"And what makes you think I am capable of taking care of a child?"

"I have complete faith in you, my boy. I'm sure you will do just fine. It can't..."

"Furthermore, why can't the boy come right to Hogwarts at the beginning of term? Why must I pick him up now?"

"He needs to learn about our ways. Harry will need time to get use to the Wizarding world. I cannot have the boy come to Hogwarts with no knowledge of how magic works," Dumbledore explained.

Severus ignored his mentor and continued to protest.

"What's more, it is not yet August; what am I suppose to do with a 11-year-old spoiled brat for a month?"

"Severus..." Dumbledore started, but Severus just went on with his tirade.

"Why me, Albus? Why not McGonagall or one of the other professors, or even yourself? Why not just hire someone? He is The-Boy-Who-Lived after all, people would be clamoring to watch over him for a month," Severus reasoned desperately to the headmaster.

"Severus..."

"Better yet, why not just leave the boy at the Leaky Cauldron? I'm sure Tom would oblige," the desperate man continued unfazed.

"Severus..."

"Albus, you can't expect..."

"SEVERUS!" Dumbledore bellowed. "That is enough, you are exhausting my inexhaustible patience," he sighed, then continued. "You will bring Harry to Prince Manor and he will stay with you until the beginning of term. He has been living with his Muggle relatives for 10 years and thus knows very little if anything at all about our ways. Teach him the customs of our world, show him around and explain some basic laws of magic. I will not have him start school oblivious to magic."

"Headmaster…" Severus began, but Albus was had already made up his mind.

"That is my last word on the subject, Severus."

Severus pinched his nose; he had been losing this battle from the very start. When Albus Dumbledore required something, Albus Dumbledore got it.

"Very well, Headmaster. But if I am to baby sit that spoil brat for a month, then I insist you allow me to discipline the boy as I see fit."

Dumbledore looked at the potions master with consideration, his eyes calculating.

"It will be difficult for the child to be taken away from his family and thrust into a world he does not understand, and with a man he does no know. Harry will need time to adjust. I trust you will not be too harsh with him?"

Dumbledore's tone was firm, reminding the potions master of what he would and would not tolerate. The headmaster knew all too well the animosity between Severus Snape and the Marauders, and the unending grudge Severus held against James Potter. Dumbledore knew that although the vengeful man would not be cruel to the son of his childhood tormentor, he would not accept the boy easily. But inside every man there was compassion. Severus Snape had lived a brutal life and that has turned him against the world, but kindness can come from the most unexpected places and the one to break a cold man's shell could come from someone most unexpected.

Severus nodded as he gave another sigh. He understood the headmaster's concern, but he had vowed years ago, promising both his mother and himself that he would never harm any child like his father had harmed him.

"You have no need to worry, Albus, I have never abused a child and I do not intend to start now, no matter how much havoc that little menace causes."

"Abuse comes in many different forms, Severus," the headmaster replied gravely, his blue eyes measuring Severus with the intensity of cobra. The potions master wavered under the focused glare. Yes, abuse did come in many different forms, and he had been on the receiving end of too many of them not to know that.

"If you do not trust me with the boy then..." Severus began, but the headmaster cut him off.

"My child, I have complete faith in you, otherwise I would not have asked you to do this. I am sure you can take care of Harry," Albus Dumbledore smiled once more. "I am just as sure he will behave for you. How much mischief can one 11-year-old boy get into anyway?"

_Oh Albus, you have no imagination..._

to be continued...

**A/N: Another chapter done. I hope you liked Severus and Albus. What do you think of them? Any comments on this chapter? At all? Say something, anything. Oh, and for those who are wondering what Moon Fever is, it's a virus caught only by Wizarding children. I will explain more of it when Harry catches it later.**

**Next chapter, we will get back to Harry and then, all aboard for the SS/HP Father/Son Express. **

**Admission price: 1 review. ALL ABOARD!! **

"**tickets please"**

**Next Chapter -First Impressions -title subject to change. -**


	6. Chp 5: Assumption and Impression

**Start of story A/N: Thank you for reading and reviewing LOAF. I'm glad you all enjoyed the last chapter. Please don't hate me for the false alarm, I promise there won't be any more of those. (smiles sheepishly). **

**Yeah, I know, I know. It's about time, we finally get to some Severus and Harry. And now the story really gets going. Man, this chapter gave me a headache. Got Aspirin? I just couldn't get it to flow in the beginning. **

**Be sure to check out my new fic; Occlumency is on Monday. Staring, once again, Severus Snape and Harry Potter **

**Welcome ladies and gentlemen of all species. Thank you for boarding with the LOAF Express. For your own safety, please keep hands, feet, and all appendages inside the vehicle at all times and enjoy the ride. We will be arriving at our first stop in just under 5 minutes. Please ensure you have all your packages with you before departing.**

**This chapter hasn't been proof-read yet, but it will be.**

_**ooOooOooOooOXxXOooOooOooOoo**_

"_Don't be over self-confident with your first impressions of people." -Chinese Proverb_

_Never assume, because it makes and ASS out of U and ME. -anonymous _

**CHAPTER 5: ASSUMPTION AND IMPRESSION**

5...4...3...2...1

"Happy Birthday, Harry."

The small boy on the floor whispered to himself. Normally, the he would have been wondering what his aunt and uncle got him (probably another coat hanger), but this year he had something bigger to look forward to. A present from his mother, a real present and none of that junk he'd always received from his aunt and uncle.

Harry waited hopefully for the surprise to come, whatever it was, Harry hoped his aunt and uncle wouldn't wake up and take it away. But as the minutes passed and nothing came Harry began to grow restless, where was the present his mother had promised?

Perhaps it was justa dream, and nothing more. Harry had so hoped it wasn't just a dream this time, it had seemed so real, he felt her warmth, heard the drumming of her heart and her soft words. It had to be more than just a dream.

Outside, the storm twisted and thrashed, lashing out at the little cabin on the rock. The entire structure shook with fright as the violent tempest thundered on without relent.The ocean vented its fury as wave upon wave crashed into the tiny island, sending sea spray smashing up against the cracked window. The heavens showed no mercy as it beat upon the earth and drowned the coast. A roar of thunder sounded, seconds later the entire coastline lit up as a great flash of lightning swept across the sky, then it was dark again and all too quiet save the splashes of rain and whistling wind.

Back inside the thought-to-be orphan boy had fallen asleep with nothing but a potato-sack-like rag between his small torso and the frozen ground. Perhaps his gift would arrive with the morning sun, but Harry knew better than to hope. The boy was curled into a tight little ball, trying to keep warm in the icy night. His eyes twitched as wondrous dreams filled his unconscious mind.

"_Don't be afraid, you are safe Harry,safe..."_

"_Soon Harry, soon you will shine..."_

"_Never let go of your dreams son, for one day they may just come true..."_

"_He comes for you tonight, go with him, be happy..."_

"_Don't let the storm get you down Harry, for all storms come to an end..."_

"_Your gift has arrived, have patience, for it may take awhile to unwrap..."_

"_Wake up Harry, he's here...he's here."_

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Back in the real world, Harry Potter woke with a start.

X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X

Severus Snape was late.

Severus Snape could care less.

Because Severus Snape was very annoyed.

Harry Potter was not at his home in Surrey, in fact no body was home at Number 4, Private Drive. The entire house was deserted; hundreds of Hogwarts letters littered the ground, unopened. Severus just about ransacked the entire house before determining the boy was not there. He finally activate Dumbledore's tracking spell and ended up walking up and down Channel shore, trying to find a tiny rock in a pitch black world. It was no easy task, even a _lumos maximus _could only give so much light, and the complete downpour made it even more difficult to see. Finally after an hour of searching, one very vexed war spy found the island with the broken down shack a few miles off shore.

Harry Potter was _there?_ Why in the world would anyone be there, especially on a night like this? Severus had to wonder.

But that didn't matter, what was important was that he'd finally found the boy. With a growl of both frustration and relief he Apparated himself right before the battered door and knocked.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

He waited. No one came. Severus knocked again, louder this time.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

He waited. There was no answer. With a growl of frustration he raised his fist and banged heavily on the wooden door.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Back inside the cabin, Harry Potter woke with a start.

Who could that be at this time of night, thought Harry. Maybe it's the coast guard...hopefully not the post office. Uncle Vernon would flip if it was the post office.

"HEH!! Where's the cannon!" Dudley blubbered out as he shot up from the couch, looking around frantically, mouth agape, his chubby cheeks flapping around.

The wood creaked as Vernon crept down the stairs, holding a rifle loaded and ready. Petunia peaked from behind his large frame, face white with fear. She shook her husband's wide shoulders and whispered. "Vernon! Did you load the gun? Who could that be at this time of night? Make them go away!"

On the other side of the thin walls, the potions master was growing extremely annoyed. He stood with the gale and rain battering his shield and shouted angrily as lightning traveled through the clouds.

"Somebody open this bloody door before I blast it open!"

BANG! BANG!

Silence

"Bombarda!" CRASH! The door flew apart and tore across the room, breaking upon impact on the wall opposite. Well, that's one way to open a locked door, thank god nobody was in the way.

Severus Snape looked rather mysterious as he stormed through the destroyed doorway and into the tiny, little cabin. He wore a set of long, black robes ran from head to toe, his dark hair was completely dry despite the pouring rain outside, and in his hand was a long, wooden rod; any witch or wizard would have called it, a wand. But the four inhabitants of the little cabin on the rock were unfamiliar with witches or wizards; and the man that just burst through their front door looked abnormal and strange.

Severus Snape made quite the first impressions. To the ill-fated who happen to come across the potions master, he was rude, snarky and direly intimidating. No matter whom he met, Severus was always scornful and belittling, which hardly gave the good first impression. Within two minutes of their conversation, Severus would have found someway to insult the other, earning him a reputation of a sarcastic bastard whose greasy hair could use up 10 bars of Wizarding soap. First time students, for example, would leave the potions lab convinced he is the nastiest, meanest, strictest and most terrifying professor on earth.

Of course, who ever said first impression aren't true?

As he crashed through the flimsy, run down cabin on the barren island, Severus Snape made a very bad first impression; not that he was aiming for a good one. But as he stomped inside with great irritation and anger, he noticed something amusing that turned his scowl into a jeering smirk. There stood, in the middle of the stairs, a fatty, pig-like man trying to look intimidating even as his face was twisted into a combination of absolute alarm and fright. Behind all that blubber stood with Petunia, his bony, horse-like wife whose face Severus found almost as amusing as her husband's.

Lily's elder sister; Severus grimaced as he looked at her. Petunia had none of her sister's perfection; her eyes were not emerald green, but dark brown, her face was not soft, but rough and she possessed nowhere near Lily's beauty. Severus hadn't know Petunia well as they've only met a few times, but he wondered if the woman recognized him. However, Petunia only stared at him in terror, with no sign of recognition on her face.

Despite his amusement at the scene, Severus's displeasure was glaringly evident. The potions master wore the familiar sneer on his pale, angular face; the same one he's held everyday of his life for the past two decades. To his familiars, associates, friends and enemies alike, Severus Snape rarely wore any expression other than that of disapproval, distaste and scorn.No matter how his associates and co-workers try to cheer him up, his stoic features remained stubbornly intact. The bitter man had his reasons though, for one thing, his life hadn't been pleasant and putting on a smile when there was no reason to was simply unnecessary. For another, there were very few people he believe is deserving of his respect, and these Muggles were beyond pathetic.

"Who are you? What do you want? Get out, now unless you want to get shot!" Vernon held the end of the rifle against his shoulder, ready to let fly.

The mysterious wizard only chuckled half-heartedly. "Vernon Dursley, I presume?" He sneered with skill, "Before you do something you regret, let me warn you. I do not take kindly to threats, especially from a pathetic Muggle such as yourself. Trust me when I say, I can be a very unkind man when provoked." Vernon's eyes went wide when Severus raised his wand and waved it menacingly in front of the morbidly obese man. "You can have a cannon for all I care, Dursley!" He continued, then got straight to the point. "Now where is Potter?"

Severus's words were lost to the terrified man the moment he spotted the wand. "You...you're one of them! You're one of them freaks!" Vernon accused viciously, the shock caused him to lower the gun a notch. "You, you stay away from me! I...I'll shoot, I will!"

Petunia shrieked behind her husband's large bulk, mortified as realization hit. She had spend the better half of her life trying to escape anything and everything to do with that wickedness; _magic. _She had hoped that if she ignored and denied her past, it would go away. She had high hopes she would be able to snuff the magic out of her nephew by getting him to hate his parents and magic. But now, there was a wizard, one of _them_, standing only feet away.

Severus's onyx black eyes darkened dangerously. "What did you call me?" He grounded out slowly, seeping venom into each and every word.

Vernon swallowed visibly. "I...I..." Petunia gave him a shove, urging her husband to do something. Vernon cleared his throat and tried to bring his foot down, he was _man of the house_, after all. "You're one of them freaks! G...get away! Your are not welcomed at our...our house!" Vernon half bellowed, half spluttered. He once again rising the rifle, "Go on! Get!" The chubby man gestured with the long weapon.

The wizard on the other end only snorted and jeered, "You call this depleted, battered old tent a house? You poor man, must be terribly impoverished." Clearly, that was one wrong thing to say to a man like Vernon Dursley.

"We are NOT impoverished!" Vernon's face purpled with ascending rage. He had never been so insulted in his life, no really, he had never been so insulted in his life! "For your information I am the director of Gunnings Drill Company, and we are, in fact, very well off!" He announced proudly, "You! You stop contaminating our...um, cabin and...and get!" The beefy man roared those next words, trying to sound threatening even as he trembled.

Harry, who had found himself a corner to hid in, peaked out. The strange man wore a long black cape, running all the way from his shoulders down to his feet. His pale, yellowish skin looked rough and cracked. Who was this man? Thought Harry. From the moment he laid eyes on him Harry thought he looked like a vampire, so pale and bland were his features. His mother had mentioned something about werewolves and vampires being misunderstood creatures, and that they were evil or bad. Now that he's seen one for himself Harry was not sure he believed his her this time. The man was a monster! He stood at least six and a half feet tall. He was slim, much slimmer than Uncle Vernon, but looked very strong. The man's long black hair ran to his wide, square shoulders, barely meeting them. His cadaverous face had a yellowish tinge to it and held a look of chilling disapproval as he sneered and laughed at Uncle Vernon. This man looked really scary, and he was not at all intimidated by Uncle Vernon's threats; everybody was intimidated by Uncle Vernon (all except Aunt Petunia).

"I believe I warned you not to provoke me, Mr. Dursley," Severus said slowly, making himself sound even more menacing. Vernon gulped, without thinking, he pulled the trigger and off went the rifle. As a deafening bang shot through the cabin and into the night Harry twisted his gaze way and cowered from the loud noise. He fully expected the man to drop dead right there and then. Uncle Vernon had a bad aim, but even he couldn't miss something that was two feet in front of him. But there came no cry of pain, no thud of falling body, no moan of a dying man, no...anything. Just an alarmed scream and an amused laughter.

_Muggles. Hopeless. _Severus laughed, shaking his head. "Do not do that again," he warned, "Now Dursley, back to the matter at hand. I am here for the Potter boy, tell me where he is."

"Potter?" Vernon asked stupidly.

"Don't play dumb with me! Your nephew, Harry Potter, where is he?" Severus's cutting tone made Harry whimper, he scrambled back to the corner and pulled his legs to his chest.

Vernon paused, blinked, then pointed. "You can have him. He's right there. Take him, take him, we don't care. It's about time too!" Harry paled and pushed himself further back into the corner. So much for family. What had his uncle meant by 'it's about time'? Were they waiting for someone to take him away? He knew the Dursleys didn't like him, was this man from an orphanage. Harry had heard horrible stories about the orphanage, it was one way his aunt and uncle made him behave; by threatening him with the orphanage.

Severus tensed, would they really just let him take the child with no protest whatsoever? He had thought they would be reluctant to give up their little prince. But it seems he was wrong. Severus shook his head, just goes to show how annoying Potter really is. The uncle's words nagged at him, but with another shake of his head he dispelled the worry from his mind and went to claim what he came here for.

Meanwhile, Petunia looked panic-stricken, clueless as to what to do. On the one side, she was ecstatic _somebody _was finally riding her of the little parasite that infected her perfect home. On the other hand, she could not help but wonder what the man wanted with him. "What...what do you want with him?" She asked nervously, either out of curiosity or care, she did not even know herself.

_Well at least the aunt's got some decency in her, or it could just be curiosity. _Severus mused.

Severus turned around. "He is a wizard, is he not? Potter will be attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry from September to June for the next seven years. He will be home for the summer, of course."

The two Dursleys on top of the stairs did a double take. Of all the atrocities that the freak had brought into the Dursley's home, this has got to be the worst. First the letter, now this wizard wanting to take him to _Hog Warts_ or whatever, to learn _magic. _It would be lovely to have the abomination out of the house for nine months, but at the cost of being normal? It was not worth it.

"WHAT? NO! The boy will not be going anywhere. I won't have him being more of a freak than he is!" Harry cringed, Uncle Vernon was a force to behold when he was angry. But the stranger seemed undeterred by the other man's rising ire.

Severus frowned at hearing Vernon's words. _Freak_. Why would the boy's uncle call him a freak? Surely, spoiled, pampered little boys were not called 'freaks'. He crossed his arms, looking bored. "Freak or not, he will be attending Hogwarts. No body denies Albus Dumbledore."

Vernon seemed on the verge of a epileptic fit, his face turned a dull purple as if there was not enough oxygen. "I will NOT subject my family to anymore of his freakishness! That wretched boy will not be learning magic and that's that!" The man's previous fear seemed to vanish into thin air as he screamed his objection.

Severus growled once more, it was really an unbecoming habit of his. In two great gaits he turned to Vernon and brought himself within an inch of the bulkier man. "He will be going to school, learning magic and I will be taking him tonight. Try to stop me and I will give you a better reason to fear magic than your lack of knowledge about it."

"Trust me, Dursley," He continued, breathing hard into Vernon's face, "When I am done with you, you would be very well acquainted with magic."

With a snort the potions master twisted away and began looking for Harry.

Severus Snape had convinced himself that any procreation left by James Potter would end up just as arrogant, pathetic and impervious as his or her father. For 11 years, Severus had assumed that the only spawn of James Potter was not only arrogant and impervious, spoiled and pampered, but most likely a egotistic, bigoted, bullying brat who was waited on hands and feet like royalty. The fact that he was the famous Boy-Who-Lived would not help matters at all, and Severus was determined to teach the misinformed boy about his place; for there would be no nonsense tolerated in his house.

But upon finding the boy cowering underneath a table at one corner of the room, all of his past assumptions were put to the test. For this did not look like a spoiled, pampered, haughty brat he had imprinted in his mind. The boy looked to be too small for his age, dressed in dirty rags that were three times too big. If first impressions were anything to go by, the small child looked, for the world, like an abused dog; or an neglected child. But Severus brushed the thought away, after all, sometimes it is best not to go by your first impressions of people. He refuse to let 11 years of assumptions be shattered by this image of the pathetic looking Potter. There was just no way the Boy-Who-Live was mistreated in any way, shape or form.

"Come out of the corner, Potter!" Severus yelled, reaching down to grab the boy curled up in the corner.

To be continued...

**Next Chapter: Leaving Home or Going Home? **


	7. Chp 6: Home? part 1

"_It takes hands to build a house, but only hearts can build a home" -Anonymous_

**CHAPTER 6: HOME Part I**

"_Come out of the corner, Potter!" Severus yelled, reaching down to grab the boy curled up in the corner._

Harry's breath nearly caught as he watched the scary man make a sudden grab for him. His shoes squeaked against the floor as he pushed himself as far back as possible. Harry's back hugged the wall as he shook his head frantically. So, they knew he was a wizard, they knew all along. Harry had wondered about that for years. His relatives always blamed him when something went wrong in their lives, even when it couldn't possibly have anything to do with him. It would makes sense of course, if they knew he was a wizard, and thought he was using magic to do all those things. However, his aunt and uncle had always denied the existence of magic, and even forbid the use of the word in their household. They had never said anything about him being a wizard, or his parents being magical.

Harry looked up at the man his uncle said was a wizard, staring at him. Curiosity flooded through his veins, this was a real live wizard! Harry could not help but be fascinated. He had always wanted to meet a wizard, and now there was one right in front of him, only feet away! But as curious as Harry was, he had to admit the man was intimidating. What could a wizard possibly want with him?

"Don't argue with me, boy! I am irritated as it is thanks to your uncle. Now, come!" Severus shouted; his patience had long expired. There was very little left to deal with a stubborn child, and a Potter nonetheless. "And stop staring at me like I am some zoo animal, you irreverent child!"

Harry remained still, he peaked at the stranger through his messy bangs and shook his head once more.

"GET OVER HERE NOW BEFORE I..." Severus caught himself shouting when he saw Harry cringe. The wizard pressed his lips together, closed his eyes and sighed. The boy looked absolutely terrified, yelling won't do any good, he didn't want Potter screaming and flaying all the way back to Prince Manor. There was always restraining charms, but he didn't think Albus would approve the use of _silencio _and i_mmobulous_ on his delicate Boy-Who-Lived. Intimidation can begin tomorrow, Severus concluded, he just wanted to get home right now.

"Mr. Potter, remove yourself from that corner this instant." He said firmly, holding back as much venom as he was capable of against the Potter boy.

Harry looked at the man before him and swallowed.

"Who..who are you?" He asked in a shaky voice.

"Mr. Potter, My name is Se..." Severus stopped himself. If Petunia told the brat anything about his parents, she, undoubtedly, would have told him about a certain Slytherin named Severus Snape, more commonly known as _Snivellus. _She would have no end of bad things to say about him. There was no way Harry Potter was going with him if he knew that the "greasy snake" his father despised was the man standing in front of him. _Stupid brat will probably think I'm kidnapping him._ Severus thought bitterly.

"You may address me as Professor, or simply, sir."

"What..what do you want?"

"I am here to take you Prince Manor, my home, where I was instructed to prepare you for Hogwarts." Severus said as _nicely _as he could.

"Magic?" Harry muttered fearfully. "Uncle Vernon was right, you are a wizard?"

"Yes, magic. And yes, I am a wizard. Now come along." Severus grabbed Harry's arm and gave a firm tug. But Harry didn't budge. Instead, he pulled back and kept on shaking his head. "No, no. Let me go, please." He didn't know who this man was, Aunt Petunia was always telling Dudley not to talk to strangers.

"Mr. Potter, you listen here! I do not have time for this nonsense. You will come with me and we will be journeying to my manor many miles north of here. You are a wizard and it's time you are introduced to magic."

Harry eyes widened at the revelation. He had been wanting to learn magic for ages. "Magic? You mean I can learn it now?"

"Yes," Severus confirmed, "Come September you will go to a school called Hogwarts, and there you shall study for seven years, to learn how to be a proper wizard. Now come, I don't have all night!" _Or all morning, _he though irritably, since it was past midnight.

Harry continued to stare at Severus suspiciously.

Severus rolled his eyes, exasperated. Reaching into his robes, he pulled out Harry's Hogwarts letter and handed it to the boy. "Your Hogwarts letter." Harry eyed the letter yearningly, at last he stretched out an arm and took letter in one trembling hand. Keeping on eye on the strange man he tore open the envelope and read the contents inside.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE_

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall,_

_Deputy Headmistress_

As said, attached to the letter was a long list of items, everything from uniforms, to cauldrons, to telescope. Harry looked up from the letter and gazed at the wizard, mouth agape. This was real, he was going to a magic school? To learn magic? Finally?

"Close that mouth of yours, you look like a fish out of water!" Harry slammed his jaw shut. "I teach potions at the school. Now, stop dawdling, give me you hand, we are leaving."

But Harry was still unsure of what to do. His mother's words echoed in the back of his mind. '_You will get the biggest present this year, even better than Dudley's'. _Was this the present he was suppose to get? The chance to attend a magic school? 'M_agic will come to you when you most and least expect it'. _Well, he sure wasn't expecting this tonight. '_He comes for you tonight, go with him, be happy'. _Who? Was he suppose to go with this man?

"Come along, boy! Where's that classic Potter audacity? Don't you want to learn magic?" Severus frowned; he was never getting out of here. "I am not going to hurt you, come out...please." He bit reluctantly.

Harry looked at the man curiously. "You promise to teach me magic?"

Severus rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes. Now, come." He urged as gently as he could, beckoning Harry with his outstretched hand.

"And Potions? That's like...chemistry, right?"

"Entirely different subjects, but with many correlations. Yes, you will be learning Potions at Hogwarts and I will be teaching it to you." _Unfortunately, _Severus added silently.

Suddenly, another voice entered the conversation, it was Petunia's. "STOP! Stop it this instant! We've already said, that boy will not being going anywhere! You were ones that dumped him on our front door. He belongs to us, and as his guardians we FORBID him to learn any...magic!" She spat the last word like it was cardinal sin. "Do you know what happened to your mother, boy? Hm?" She turned to Harry nastily and scoffed, "She got herself blown up! That's what! All because of magic. Humph, your mother was fascinated by that devilish act, and she killed herself with it, dragging your pathetic father with her. Do you really want to learn magic, boy? When it was responsible for their deaths? And endanger all of us, your family?"

"Blown up? Magic? You said they were killed in a car crash, you said..."

"Ha! Car crash indeed," Vernon interrupted. "If you weren't so dopey, you'd have realize it was all a cover up. Your parent's didn't die in a car crash. Magic killed them!"

"If she hadn't indulged in magic in the first place," Petunia continued hatefully, her hatred for her sister never dwindled over the years. "If she hadn't sold her soul to the devil himself, she wouldn't be where she is today—dead and rotten. Leaving us the burden of raising _her_ child."

Severus found his ire at the Durselys rise once more.

"Never address Lily Evans in such a manner in front of me, woman! She was a better person that you could ever hope to be. It is a shame you never realized, even after all these years, what a wonderful person she truly was."

"Wonderful? Ridiculous! She was a freak, a freak who was too weak to resist the temptation of the devil. And look what happened!"

"Lily was murdered, your _sister_ was murdered. Surely you cannot blame her for that," Severus growled viciously. "If you had any decency in you, you would care. Now cease your fictitious accusations if you know what's best for you!"

"My mother was murdered?" Harry's timid voice emerged all of a sudden.

Severus sighed, _yes, she was.. _He turned back to the boy.

"Yes, she was."

Harry swallowed; his heart speed up. Murdered, she did not die in a car crash, she was murdered.

"And James too?"

"James? You mean your father?"

"Um...sure," Harry answered. His mother had always referred to James as his dad. It was partly true after all, James had been his father for a year. But Harry had another dad, the real one, the one named Severus. It would be confusing to call them both, dad, so Harry settled to call James, James.

Severus glared at the boy with disapproval, he could imagine the beating he'd ever referred to his father by his name (Tobias). Potter clearly had no respect for his elders; what kind of a child referred to his or her parents by their names?

"He was," he answered simply.

"Who? Why?" Harry asked mournfully. Why would anyone want to kill them? Why them? Why him? Harry felt a burn in his chest, he felt like crying. A few tears escaped his eyes before he blinked them away. Rapidly. There would be no crying, that was against the rules.

Severus paused, thinking of Lily. _Why indeed. Why is it always the most innocent that are killed?_

Lily Evans was hardly innocent, Severus, his mind told him. She was in the Order, she fought in the war, she was a soldier, just like you.

_She is more innocent than I would ever be. Too innocent, and too young to die at the hands of a another, at the hands of the dark one no less._

"Because she was brave," Severus said sadly, though he tried not to show it.

"And what about James?"

"Because he was there," Severus answered irritably.

Harry frowned in confusion, well that was vague.

"You knew them?" He asked.

"Yes, I knew them,"

"How?"

"I just did!" Severus snapped. The way he knew Lily was so different that the way he knew James Potter, but he did not want to think of them right now. James, because he made Severus angry, and Lily, because she made him long.

"What were they like?"

Severus sneered as the images of James and his buddies attacked him. James was worse than pathetic; he was cruel, selfish, bigoted and egotistic. How Lily could have fallen in love and married such a narcissistic jackass, he would never understand. Closing his eyes ones more, Severus filled his mind with a merrier image. _Lily, if only you were still here._

"She was very beautiful," Severus began in remembrance, "with rare, emerald green eyes and silky, auburn hair. Her presence made everyone around her smile. She loved to laugh, dance and lived life to its fullest; your mother was possibly the most vivacious person I knew. She was very intelligent, and excelled in Charms and Potions."

Harry was captivated as Severus droned on about Lily. Hearing the scary wizard say so many nice things about his mum made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside; he only wish she was here. Looking at the wizard, Harry thought to himself, he's not so bad. His tone was no longer harsh and jagging, but gentle and smooth.

Severus was still woolgathering.

"She was very brave, only too brave. She fought for what she believed in and never gave up. Your mother constantly stood up for others and was always eager to help those in need." _Including me. _"She was extremely kind-hearted...caring...generous. It was not her time...it was my fault...I should have been there...I should have...protected her." The stern and stoic man always softened when he thought of Lily, it was one of those rare times when the softer side of him seeped through his hard exterior, (but if you ask, he would deny any existence of a 'soft side').

Harry was just about to ask about James when the forlorn man sighed longingly, shook his head and lurched out of this daze.

"I am in no mood for more of your unrelenting questions," he snapped, "the time to depart has long passed."

Harry considered his options; he could stay here, and go on with this wicked life. Or he could go learn magic, and be like his mom and dad. Harry glanced at Severus. He was a stranger, Harry thought, but not that much of a stranger. This man knew his mother, and he said such nice things about her that he couldn't be bad. Harry suddenly realized he would be leaving home, for months and months. He has never been away from Private Drive for more than 2 weeks when his relatives went on vacation and handed him off to Mrs. Figg. But Harry doubt he would miss Private Drive very much, even if it was his home. After some thought, he finally decided to go with the man. At least he would be welcomed at the school, (the man was practically inviting him), unlike his current home.

"Okay, but you promise to tell me about my mom and James?"

Severus contemplated the question. Yes, he would have to indulge the child now, if only to get him out of that damned corner. Besides, who said he had to tell Potter anything but a couple of facts. After all, he owed the boy nothing. "Fine, but only your mother."

"Why not James?"

"Because I do not like him!" He yelled wrathfully. The grudge filled wizard did not want to think about James Potter right now; one Potter at any given time was enough to make him want to lose his supper.

Harry flinched at the sudden change in the stranger's tone. "Oh...okay."

Slowly and cautiously Harry reached out, Severus grabbed the tiny wrist and pulled the boy from beneath the table and unto his feet.

"Where are your things?" The wizard asked as he led them to the middle of the room.

"Um...back at the house, sir." Harry answered quietly.

"Egh," Severus grunted with annoyance. "Well, we'll get them in the morning. Hold on to me, we shall Apparate."

"We're what?" Harry asked, confused.

"Apparate," Severus rolled his eyes impatiently, "now..."

"Oy! Wait just a minute! We did not give you permission to take the boy!" Vernon protested abruptly.

"Dursley, Dursley. You don't learn, do you?" Severus said with a tsk. He looked around, then pronounced. "Ah, there you are**." **

Severus had found the last member of the Dursley household, Dudley.

All this time Dudley had been behind the couch, watching the scene unfold with part fascination, part terror. When the strange wizard turned to him he gave a squeak and ran to his parents. "Chubby little fellow, what do you say I give him a tail to match that pig-like face of his?"

Vernon's face paled. "You...you leave Dudley alone," He stuttered.

"Fine, fine! Take the boy, see if we care! Go and leave us be!" Petunia shrieked, afraid for her son.

"Very well, we shall be going then. Come along, Potter," Severus gripped Harry's arm and pulled him close. "Hold on to me."

"Wait...but, what...Ah!"

He couldn't breath! There was no air! Harry felt as if his body was trapped hundreds of meters below the sea, with hundreds of pounds of pressure baring down on him, squeezing and pressing from every angle, threatening to collapse his lungs!

Back inside the cabin, relief was short lived when a certain Muggle discovered his new appendage, and a barrage of frenzied screams faded into the still thundering night.

X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X

Two shadowed figures appeared adjacent to the 10-foot, sculpted, wrought iron gate in front of what was called, Prince Manor. One of the silhouettes seem to lose balance and tumbled to the ground, the other look as if nothing had happened, standing straight and tall. The first silhouette was that of a little boy; the skinny, scrawny, wild haired 11-year-old nuisance who once saved the Wizarding world. The second silhouette was less popular, but well-known nonetheless. This tall, gaunt figure was one of Europe's best Potion Masters; known for his infamous sneer and sarcastic character.

Our savior of the Wizarding world was often referred to as the Boy-Who-Lived, or as his birth certificate states, Harry James Potter. Now, the Boy-Who-Lived or savior of the Wizarding world or Harry James Potter did not know he was famous. Quite the contrary, the timid child thought he was the most unpopular, unloved and unwanted boy in the whole of world. He never knew what a reporter would give to have an interview, or how much the average wizard would sacrifice, just to shake his hand However, it is only a matter of time before the boy found out. Today, Harry Potter thought he was leaving home, little does he know, he would be going home instead.

Severus Snape, our second silhouette, knew many things about Potions, sarcasm and how to play _spy._ But the things he did not know could fill the core of the Earth. For one thing, he did no know he had a son, or that this son of his stood right before him on this very night. Severus did not know that the boy he hated with a passion, was the boy was suppose to love with all that he is. Severus did not know Harry, and did not want to know Harry. He had assumed, out of a 15 year old grudge, that Harry Potter was just like his father; arrogant, selfish, reckless and bigoted. No, Severus did not know Harry, or the trials, good and bad, one _innocent _little boy would bring, for years to come.

To be continued...


	8. Chp 7: Home? part 2

**LOVE OF A FATHER**

**CHAPTER 7: HOME?**

**OoOooOooOooOXxXOooOooOooOoo**

Harry gasped, holding his chest and dropping to the ground. What in the world was that? Harry tried to shake off the strange feeling tugging at his insides. That was not pleasant; whatever _that_ was. He would NEVER, EVER do it again. Not even if someone offered him one-hundred pounds.

Harry blushed furiously as he felt a set of eyes fall on him, he gulped and looked up. The stranger was laughing at him, well, not laughing, but definitely jeering silently.

"That, Potter, is called Apparation. You better get use to it, as it is a common form of transportation for Wizards. One day, you may learn it, provided you are not inept, of course." Severus sneered down at the boy, satisfied at seeing the great Harry Potter on the ground, covered in mud and getting wetter by the second.

Severus was not good at being nice, and if someone asked him to be kind to a Potter, they were asking too much. Now that Harry was no longer cowering or hiding underneath a table, the lord of grudge and discontent felt no more need to be civil, he can finally return to his nasty self.

Harry frowned warily at the man towering over him. He was used to insults, nobody was ever nice to him, why should this man be any different.

"Well, what are you lying there for? Get up!" Severus barked, offering no assistance. Harry cringed at the harsh tone, and obeyed immediately, following the older wizard through the tall gates. The stranger hadn't said anything about his mud covered clothes which was strange. Aunt Petunia always got angry if he got his clothes dirty, even though it was impossible to keep them clean, especially when gardening.

_How in the world did he stay dry like that? _ Harry wondered as he shivered in the cold, gusty night. The storm was weaker in the north, (there were not deafening roars of thunder or blinding flashes of lightning), but it was colder, much colder. The gale carried the salty taste and icy chill of the Atlantic ocean and brought it down across the country. Harry reached up and wiped the water from his glasses with the hem of his shirt. As if that did any good.

They walked and walked. _Where are we going? When are we going to get there? It's cold...and wet. Where am I anyway? _ Harry kept his gaze on the ground, watching his feet take one step at a time.

Harry finally huffed quietly and glanced up. Instantly, his mouth opened in to an 'O' and mouthed, 'wow'. The house was huge. It looked 10 times the size of #4 Private Drive. This was no house, this was a mansion.

Prince Manor belonged to Severus's mother. His father, being a Muggle, owned nothing but a ordinary house, in an ordinary cul-de-sac, on an ordinary piece of land. Prince Manor, however, was anything but ordinary. When compared to the Muggle world that is. The Prince Estate an not extraordinary by any means, not if you scale it with other high-class Wizarding properties. It was not exceedingly large, nor was it very glamourous or all that valuable. Prince Manor was magnificent nontheless, and to the Prince family, it was priceless.

The estate was located in North West England, the 20-acre property had one of the most beautiful gardens in Europe, _had, _being the key word. The manor house sat in the southern end, near the Strannge Lake and is backed by rolling hills covered with bracken and heather. The 110' x 90' dimensions of the four-story mansion are aligned symmetrically around a central Great Hall. The mansion had over forty rooms, though only half were ever used at one time. Today though, only half a dozen rooms are occupied.

The exterior of the house was characterized by Dutch gables, mullioned windows and ogee shaped roofs. The inside contained a vast collection of priceless paintings, portraits, furniture, ancient sculpture and other artifacts, all centuries old and passed down from generation to generation. Its massive library which housed over of 8000 unique copies of rare and unusual books on a grand number of topics. Throughout his life, Severus Snape had contributed over two hundred Potion books to the library, (talk about being obsessive). As a child, this had been his playground.

The estate's prize winning Neoclassic garden featured terraces displaying marble and bronze sculptures. Lavish flower gardens and fine specimen trees used to make the entire garden glow, but Severus Snape had better things to do than enter himself in garden competitions. He saw no point in wasting resources and precious time in keeping the garden in shape, and so, busied himself with other tasks—mainly Potions research. Besides, when one had a full-time job as a Potions Professor and secrete agent who had time to garden? Without attention, the marble pavilions, fountains, sunken garden and carriage house all fell into disgrace. Today, the abandoned garden sat withering, overcome with weed.

.

"Wow, that's your house?" Harry gaped, totally enthralled by the sight before him. The man must be very wealthy to own a house like that.

"Yes," Severus snapped. "With any luck, it will still be standing by the end of August."

"Oh...why?" Harry asked, curious.

"Why do you think?" Severus growled.

Harry had no idea what to think.

And so they continued down the paved road in silence.

Maybe if he said something nice, like a compliment, the stranger would like him more, thought Harry. After all, Dudley had always like being called intelligent, even though he probably didn't even know what the word meant. His cousin hardly liked him, but if Harry was lucky, Dudley would just push him into a wall and leave him alone.

"Um...nice cape," Harry muttered hesitantly as they walked down the paved road, surrounded on both sides by well kept grass.

Severus stopped dead in his tracks, Harry ran straight into the man and stumbled back

"Oof.. Sorry, sorry, I'm sorry," he apologized repeatedly.

Cape? Cape! Severus glared at Harry with indignation. They boy was even more clueless than he thought. Just like the son of James Potter to be so absolutely dimwitted. "This is not a 'cape' you daft boy, it is a casual robe!" He sneers with venom dripping from each and every syllable. Oh how he detested the boy.

"Oh." Harry blushed, of course it was not a _cape_, who wears a _cape! _Stupid, stupid, stupid. Wizards don't wear capes, they wore robes, he knew that. The man already seemed to dislike him, why did he had to go and make himself look like an idiot. "Sorry."

Severus shook his head grouchily; a cape, really! He had a lot to teach the boy before he would be ready for Hogwarts. "Nevermind, just you remember that from now on." The potions master ordered as he began to move off. Harry fell in behind the wizard with head bowed and shoulders haunched.

"Yes, sir."

Before he knew it, Harry was standing right in front of the front doors. The curious boy tilted his head high as Severus led him through the enormous doors.

As they entered the vestibule Harry turned and twisted his body, letting his head wander as his eyes tried to take in everything in strange surrounding. He tipped his head backwards and spun around to get a full view of the high celling. There was only one word to describe it, monumental. Harry thought the ceiling was at least a hundred feet high!

"Oof," the boy grunted as he tripped over his own feet, twisting his ankle he fell to the ground. _Ow,_ Harry complained silently, rubbing at the hurt.

Severus flipped his head around. "Will you keep up!" He barked without breaking stride.

Harry jumped at the slicing tone and immediately ran to the man, limping a little as he tried to stay off his hurt ankle.

Severus took one look at the boy and felt his temper give.

"Damn it, Potter! You're dripping all over the floor. Not even a minute in my house and you're already destroying it! I knew this would happen! What did you do, take a mud bath for heaven's sake?" Severus yelled at Harry, and continued rambling to no one in particular.. "A child! A child in my house! A Potter on my property! Ruining everything! Never in a million years! God damn you, Albus!" Severus breathed deeply to his temper under control. "You careless boy, get over here!"

So he was in trouble for getting dirty after all, thought Harry, he should have known he'd wouldn't get away with it. But it was not his fault the man didn't give him an umbrella.

Severus reached for Harry's arm and dragged him close, with his right hand he drew his wand, and in that moment, Harry panicked. A switch, a switch! He hated the switch, it was even worse than the belt sometimes.

"No, no please, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it, honest." He pleaded, pulling back and trying to get away. He could outrun Uncle Vernon at times, Harry doubted he'd be able to out run this lean man though.

"Stop blabbering!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Harry was panting already as his heart continued to race.

"Be quiet, it wasn't your fault," Severus shouted impatiently. Before Harry could react, the wizard flicked his wrist. From the tip of his wand came a maya blue light, it formed itself around Harry's entire torso, taking his form before fading out slowly.. Harry felt strange, it was a feeling he could not describe. As the light vanished, Harry was left standing stunned, but thanks the heavens, clean and dry. Another swish of the wand and the trail of mud and water on the polished wood floor vanished like it had never been there.

Severus grip did not loosen on Harry's arm as he pulled the wide-eyed boy towards the wide staircase. Harry bit his lip, surely that wasn't it, there had to be some punishment, there always was.

"I'm sorry," Harry muttered timidly, knowing that 'sorry' was never enough for Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia.

"Oh, do be silent." Severus said tiredly.

Harry blinked back tears.

As they made their up up, Harry ran his hands along the well polished wooden guardrail but quickly snatched them away as he realized he probably wasn't allowed to touch them. He trailed the man submissively; nearly jogging to keep. The man seemed was too tired to hit him. With luck, he would forget the minor infraction by morning. Harry would have to be careful from now on; the stranger seemed to have a temper as short as Uncle Vernon.

Hastily, Severus made his way up to the second floor and down the long, twisting corridors towards one of the smaller bedrooms at the end of the West Hall. It was the perfect place to keep the boy, thought Severus, far enough for comfort, yet close enough so that he could keep an eye out for the troublemaker.

"Your room." Severus opened the door and nudged the boy inside. " Stay here for the night. It is late and I am tired, the much needed talk may begin come morning. You will be up by ten, this is the first and last time you will be allowed to sleep in, so do try to sleep well. I won't have a grouchy, moody child at the breakfast table. If you cannot keep you table manners, there will be no breakfast. The meal will be served at 10:30, I will sent up a house elf to retrieve you. If you are late by one minute, Mr. Potter, do not bother showing up at all." Severus leered with intolerance, he felt completely drained of energy. " Bed," he pointed, then waved his wand, "and a change of clothes. You will not leave this room before I send for you! Is that clear?" Severus finished scathingly.

All the while, Harry goggled around the room, too consumed by shock and wonder to hear a word the wizard said. This was his room? He got his very own room? Harry couldn't help but beam at the thought. Who would have thought he'd ever get a room, let alone one like this; Harry thought he'd be stuck in the cupboard under the stairs forever. Harry looked at the room delightedly, it was magnificent! It was at least three times the size of Dudley's main bedroom! The curious boy had seen much larger rooms on their way down the hall, but this was more enough, much more than he'd ever could imagine. The room wasn't much compared to the rest of the house, it had a twinsized bed, a desk with a chair, and a drawer. But Harry's cupboard never had any of these things. As far as he was concerned, this was the grandest of them all.

"Potter!"

Someone was calling his name. But Harry wasn't listening.

Surely these things weren't all for him; there was a bed with a nightstand and lamp. A empty shelf , even a desk and chair. There was also a dresser, with a mirror no less.

"Potter!"

Harry blinked. Nobody called him Potter, or at least no one he knew. It was always _boy _or_ freak _with Uncle Vernon and Dudley, while Aunt Petunia would occasionally call him Harry. Mrs. Figg across the street usually called him by his first name, though she sometimes referred to him as _pipsqueak. _Not even his teachers at primary school called him 'Potter'.

"POTTER!" Severus barked again, snapping Harry out of his thoughts, "Are you deaf or deliberately not paying attention? Did you hear a word I said?"

"Oh...yes. Yes, sir," Harry blurted out. His pounding heart had only just settled down, now it was once again thumping soundly in his ear.

Severus crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "Really? Well, what did I say?" He asked.

"Oh...um, I...I mean, you...said, uh..." Harry spluttered, opening and closing his mouth. Oh great! Now he's done it. Harry hadn't a clue what Severus said

Severus turned to the boy, grabbed him by both arms and pulled him forward."You will not lie to me in my own house, Potter!" he said in a chipped voice, staring down at the boy, "Is that understood?"

Harry swallowed, "Yes, sir."

"Good," Severus said as he let Harry go, who immediately backed away. "Now, I said we would discuss things in the morning."

"Oh, yes, sir." Harry muttered.

"Now, sleep!" The older wizard ordered in a sharp tone.

"Yes, sir." Harry replied softly, nodding his head.

"And do _not _leave this room!" Severus warned.

"No, sir."

With a grunt Severus spun out of the room, leaving Harry alone with rivers of thought streaming through his head.

**To be continued...**


	9. Chp 8: Morning Manor Mischief

**LOVE OF A FATHER**

**Chapter 8: Morning Manor Mischief**

_Curiosity in children, is but an appetite for knowledge. The great reason why children abandon themselves wholly to silly pursuits and trifle away their time insipidly is, because they find their curiosity balked, and their inquiries neglected.  
John Locke_

**OoOooOooOooOXxXOooOooOooOoo**

Severus was exhausted or so he thought. He fully expected to collapse into bed and fall asleep within minutes. But it was two o'clock in the morning and he just could not sleep, not even two doses of the sleeping potion had helped. Which was very unusual, worryingly so.

The Potions Master had too many things on his mind right now. It only took one word to describe all his woes; Potter.

Today was the day his life would change. No more was his quiet, solitary life in his big, empty manor. The arrival of Harry would throw everything out of schedule, Severus now had an 11 year old boy in the full swings of puberty and the beginning of the 'awkward stage'. What was he going to do with the boy all summer? No 11-year-old would sit still for long and he can't have the boy run wild about the house, no, that wouldn't do at all. He'd have to find something for the boy to do..well, he'd always wanted an assistant in Potions and house elves were far too irritating.

The only downside of making Potter work was that he could only give the boy the most primitive of jobs. Severus doubted Harry could handle anything beyond crushing Flubberworm eggs.

Severus growled in annoyance, there are so many things he'd rather be doing than tend to Harry Potter's needs. His summer was completely demolished, and by Potter of all people. Severus reckoned he wouldn't be getting back to his debate in at least a few days while he get Harry settled.

_Damn Albus! Damn Potter! Damn life!_ Severus snarled in his own head.

Tossing and turning in bed, the Potions Master reflected on his day and the Dursleys' behaviour. So he had been wrong about the Potter boy. The child wasn't spoiled, pampered or waited upon on hand and foot like he'd always imagined. In fact, the boy looked to be neglected; he was skin and bones, harshly underweight, and entirely too small for his age. _"You can have him. He's right there. Take him, take him, we don't care. And don't be asking for ransom, we're not paying for him._" Did they really mean that? Did they really not care?_"Won't have him being more of a freak than he is!" _A freak? What kind of uncle called his own nephew a freak? _"His freakishness...that wretched boy," _Severus shook his head and sat up in bed. His own father's words echoed through this mind.

"_Filthy __rat...pathetic, disgusting...wretch...freak." _Those were the words his father had used to address him for as long as he could remember. More often though it was simply, _you _or _boy._ As far as he could tell, Tobias Snape had never called him son and rarely by his name.

It was not the fact that they seemed to love their own son more than their nephew that bothered Severus. It was the fact that they seemed not to care for Potter at all.

But hold on a minute, why was he bothered at all? Why was he worrying about Potter? He did not care about the brat and why should he? First of all, Potter's wellbeing at the Muggle home was no business of his, and second he simply did not care. The boy's father had been a pain in his arse ever since his first day at Hogwarts, and his son had just succeeded him in the family business of making Severus's life hell. Why should he be doing anything for the boy when his family caused him nothing but humiliation and pain? Potter would get no sympathy from Severus Snape, no way.

No, Severus Snape did not care about Harry Potter, the abominable progeny his greatest foe. However, he could not help but wonder.

Somewhere beneath his frozen exterior, Severus felt relief. The professor considered himself experienced in these type of things. For through out the years as Slytherin Head of House, he has seen many cases of abuse varying in severity. There were no immediate signs of abuse on Harry, only that of neglect.

Then a deep, wise voice sounded off in his head. "_Abuse come in many different forms." _Albus was right of course, neglect was just as bad as physical abuse, and much more scaring in a different term. The results of physical abuse would heal, but emotional abuse and neglect had an affect on the child that casts a shadow of a life time. Severus's own experience with abuse had been unforgeable, he has never forgiven his father for the pain he caused to his mother and himself, both physical and emotional. However signs of physical abuse faded over time, and can be easily concealed. Just because there were no immediate signs, does not mean that it did not exist.

Despite everything, Severus found himself submerged in denial. He had convinced himself that Harry Potter was just as spoiled and pampered as his father., and that there was no way the Boy-Who-Lived, so called _hero_ of the Wizarding world, could have grown up ill-treated. James was an arrogant and half-witted boy with a bravado the size of an elephant's backside, no doubt his offspring would have inherited those foul qualities. The boy was the mirror-image of his father. His every feature; from the tip of his nose to the back of his ears; from his circular glasses to his disheveled, jet black hair, spelled _James Potter's son._ Everything, that is, except for those eyes. Harry had clearly received Lily's brilliant, emerald green eyes, and as far as Severus was concerned, that was the only good thing about the boy, even though they reminded him of of his mistakes and a history that was best forgotten.

Severus did fall asleep that night.

Eventually.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It was the softest bed he's ever slept on, and the only bed he's ever slept on. But Harry was certain that the only bed he's ever slept on must be the softest, most comfy bed in the entire world.

Harry pressed his head into the fluffy pillow and snuggled the duvet closer; the squishy, cottony mattress felt like heaven. Harry had only dared to sit on his relatives' bed for a few seconds when he was cleaning them, they were nice, but this was so much better. He could lie here all day and not get bored.

Harry knew it was late, and he should be tired, but sleep was out of the question. Who could sleep when they've had a day like Harry's. It was packed full of confusing emotions and scary happenings. He found himself stuck in this entirely new and hectic situation and Harry was too confused, and excited and agitated to sleep. A thousand questions crisscrossed through his mind, there were so many Harry didn't know which way to turn. Why was he here? Where was here? What kind of magic was he going to learn? When would he start? What was Hogwarts? Where was Hogwarts? What was magic like? Just who was this stranger who was suppose to be a professor of Potions or chemistry or whatever? What was the stranger going to teach him? What happens now? Would he ever go back to Private Drive? Should he be scared? Excited? Nervous? Sad? Happy? Relieved? Not relieved?

One thing was for sure, and it was just about the only thing our intern to the Wizarding world was sure about. Harry knew that he did not know anything, nothing at all.

Would the professor be nicer than Uncle Vernon? He seemed okay, thought Harry. He _had_ seemed quite decent when they were at the Dursleys. The professor had been reassuring and soft when coaxing him out from the corner. But everything changed when they left the_ little rock in the middle of nowhere. _ The man had turned cold and biting. It was as if the whole _nice_ thing was just a front to manipulate him away from under the table. The man started yelling at him and calling him names as soon as he got the chance. That was nothing new of course, Harry was used to that. Everybody was acted that way towards him. Perhaps his uncle had been right all along, Harry thought sadly. Maybe he was a freak, an abnormal, horrid little boy. What other reasons did people have to be so mean towards him? Nobody was mean to Dudley, not ever.

When Harry Potter finally drifted off into a deep slumber, dreams filled his mind. Despite the nice, comfy bed, Harry did not sleep well at all. He just had too many things running through his mind, taking over his unconscious brain in the form of endless dreams. Some were good, others were not so pleasant. But Harry dreamed of his mother again that night, she had visited for only a little while; wishing her son a happy birthday, and telling him that everything would turn out okay in the end.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The sun was high on the horizon when Harry woke the next day. The stranger hadn't come and woke him up, Harry figured he'd better not leave the room. The curious boy padded around the room barefoot, first looking out the window, then at the marble counters in the bathroom, then opening and closing the drawers. _Stop it Harry_, the small boy told himself, _you're going to get in trouble. You're not allow to touch things without permission at the Dursleys, what makes you think you're allowed to do that here?_

Harry made the bed, washed his face in the sink and changed out of the cotton pajamas into Dudley's old hand-me-downs. Then, he sat down and waited, and waited, yawned, then waited some more.

He was wrong the previous night; he couldn't sit in bed all day and not get bored, no matter how comfy it was. He could spend hours, sometimes days in the cupboard without making a fuss. But this was not his cupboard and this was not even Private Drive. Harry didn't even know if they were still in England or Europe!

There was so much to explore and so much to see. He wanted to look at the giant portraits that hung from the walls, he wanted to touch the fancy railings that sleeked the stairs, Harry wanted seek out the strange sculptures and look at the elegant furniture. He wanted to look out more windows to see where he was, and peek into the many rooms to see what they were. The things he had glimpsed on his way here were nothing he's ever seen before. Everything was so unfamiliar, so new and different and peculiar and strange and and...well just and...

Harry remembered the rule from the previous night. _Do not leave this room._ It was simple enough, Harry had the same one back at Private Drive. S_tay in your cupboard! _Uncle Vernon would say, or rather, bellow.

Curiosity is a funny and dangerous thing. It was undeniable and sometimes overpowered one's instincts or that little voice in your head that tells you that whatever you are about to do is a very bad idea.

_Oh Harry! You really should know better._ The boy thought to himself as he cautiously opened the door to the corridor.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Wandering down the halls Harry glanced warily around the corners and peeped silently into the rooms, taking everything in. Most of the rooms were empty except for a few furnishings. Many of the rooms had lavish curtains and comforters. Others were filled with what looked to be really old and expensive book cases and dressers. One held a round table with fancy chairs surrounding it, another looked like a store room and the 5th room had chests stacked ceiling high. One though was pitch black and Harry decided it was best not to go in.

Along the hall hung realistic paintings of people, scenery and animals, along with several empty frames. They must have been painted by a really talented artist to make them so life like, thought Harry. The funny thing was all the animals and people seem to be painted sleeping, how peculiar.

Harry came to the last room in the hall, he quietly twisted the doorknob and popped his head in. There, in the middle of the large spacious room, was a huge piano. Harry has never seen a piano up close before. Tentatively, he tip-toed into the room and towards the giant instrument. The thing was bigger than his cupboard!

Harry ran his hands along the beautiful instrument, transfixed. He bit his lip and looked towards the door. Just one little touch, no one would know.

_Do...Re...Me...Fa.._

"What do you think you are doing!" A voice came barking from the doorway. Harry gasped and jumped a foot in the air. He immediately snatched his hand away and took a few steps back.

"I...I..."

"Did I not tell you specifically NOT to leave that room?" Severus shouted angrily as he stalked into the room.

Harry opened and closed his mouth several times like a fish out of water, too scared to say anything.

"Answer the question!" Severus made his way towards Harry and stood towering over him only inches away.

"Y...yes, sir," Harry answered fearfully, still backing away from Severus.

"Then what do you think you are doing in here?" Severus was mad. Oh, he was more than mad, he was livid. The piano was family heirloom, it had belonged to the Prince's for generations. Eileen Snape, Severus's mother loved the piano and used to play it for him, right up to her untimely passing.

_How dare the boy lay his unworthy hands on his piano, his mother's piano! The disobedient, disrespectful little devil. How dare the boy mock him by deliberately disregarding his rules, when they were so simple and straight forward. _Leave the room,_ how difficult was it not to leave a room? Why he ought to turn the boy over his knees for a sound smacking._

"I wasn't trying nothing, honest," Harry cried.

Severus ignored him. "Not only were you out of your room, but you're in here! Messing with my things? Who told you you could touch that! Come here!" Severus fumed and dragged Harry away from the piano.

"I...I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Harry pleaded and tried to pull away.

"Sneaking about, up to no good!" Severus accused harshly, pulling Harry to face him in a firm grip.

"Please, sir. I was just curious." Harry cringed and drew into himself, trying to look as small as possible.

"Curious? That is a pathetic excuse for an excuse," Severus shouted jarringly, his temper rapidly getting the better of him. "I forbid you to leave your room. I gave you specific and exact orders NOT to do anything until I send for you. And what do you do? You wander abound the halls, peeking and sneaking around, poking your nose into my things and my business. You come in here and fiddle with things you are not suppose to fiddle with!"

Harry's heart began to pound rapidly, Vernon wouldn't hit him unless he was drunk, but this man might, and he looked might mad right now.

"Do you know what that is Potter?" Severus questioned, jabbing a finger at his precious belonging. "That is the original Alma-Tadema Steinway grand and at least a hundred year old! Your family could see all their possessions and still not cover half the cost. That is a Prince family heirloom, it belongs to me, what gave you the idea that you can lay your hands on what is mine?"

Without warning Severus flipped the boy around and raised his hand.

Tears immediately sprang to Harry's eyes. He was in trouble again, why couldn't he ever stay out of trouble? He didn't mean to do anything wrong.

He should have never came with the strange man, Harry had thought he was nicer than Uncle Vernon. He seemed okay the day before, when his voice was gentle and reassuring. Harry just wanted to get away from his relatives, away from his stupid life at Private Drive, with his stupid cupboard, and his stupid cousin, and his stupid everything. Besides, Harry really wanted to learn magic, and this seemed like the chance of a lifetime. Maybe if he learned magic, he'd be able to find his father. Right now though, Harry wondered if he made the right choice, maybe he shouldn't have come. But then again, it was not as though he had any choice, the man seemed determined to take him. He'd threatened to use magic on Uncle Vernon, there was little doubt the man would have forced him to come even if he chose not to.

Right at this moment, Harry was more worried about his punishment than anything else. He could outrun Uncle Vernon. But here, Harry doubt he'd get very far if he tried to make a dash for it.

Harry cringed and squeezed his eyes shut, fully expecting the beating to hurt something awful.

However, he felt nothing but three firm swats.

_That was it? That stung a bit, but it didn't really hurt._ Harry thought, maybe the man wasn't so bad after all. The realization came too late though, just the thought of a beating brought tears to his eyes.

"Don't you dare disobey me again Potter, I will not be so lenient next time!" Severus shouted harshly, holding Harry just below the armpits.

"No...no, sir," Harry stuttered, eyes fixed on the polished wooden floor.

"You keep your fingers off my property. Clear?" Severus snapped at Harry.

"Yes, sir," Harry sniffed, and tried to blink the tears away.

The older wizard rolled his eyes. _Spoiled brat probably never been disciplined in his life for him to be crying over a few swats. He's got a lot to learn about the rules in this house. _But Harry wasn't spoiled, Severus had seen that for himself just the day before. But he would need much more than a minute glimpse of Harry's life to trash a life long of beliefs.**  
**

"Stop that!" He scolded. If there was one thing he hated dealing with was a sniveling child.

Harry sniffed and quickly wiped the tears away. No crying, apparently that was a rule in this house too.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, this was going to be a long month.

"Are you hungry?" He asked moodily.


End file.
